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BOSTON:     SMALL.    MAYNARD    &    COMPANY 


DUKE  JONES 


BY 


ETHEL  SIDGWICK 


BOSTON 

SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,   1915 
By  SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

(Incorporated) 


BO  J.  1'AERuiLL  A  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.S.A. 


SORORI  R. 


2132946 


CONTENTS 

PART  I 

PAGE 

I.  THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY       .        .        .     -  .        3 

II.  LlSETTE    .  .  .  .''         •  •  •  *         46 

III.    THE  GODS  DISPOSE        .        .        .,-..106 

PART  II 

I.    THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE       .        «       ••'.        •     163 

II.     THE  TALISMAN      .  ....    219 

III.    UNDINE          .        .  .        .    269 

PART  III 

I.    THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT    ....    327 

II.  MAUD     i        .        .        «  •        -        -357 

III.  EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE 415 


PART  I 


DUKE  JONES 


I 

THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY 


JONES, — E.  M.  Jones,  according  to  the  hotel  books, — was 
the  name  of  the  man  who  broke  upon  the  consciousness  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Shovell  in  the  last  half  of  their 
honeymoon :  who  filled  their  whole  horizon  with  a  rapid- 
ity quite  inexplicable  to  those  who  were  unacquainted 
with  the  peculiarities  of  this  young  couple;  and  who 
became  forthwith  the  central  figure  of  so  much  unneces- 
sary curiosity,  airy  conjecture,  analytical  discussion,  and 
emphatic  dissension  between  them,  that  even  their  best 
friends  would  have  trembled  for  the  future  if  they  had 
overheard  some  of  it. 

But  nobody  overheard;  for  Mrs.  Charles  was  ex- 
quisitely careful  of  people's  feelings  always,  and  imposed 
a  like  discretion,  so  far  as  was  possible,  on  her  husband. 
Jones,  the  new  objective  in  both  their  lives,  was  really 
Violet's  discovery,  since  he  chanced  to  sit  next  her  at 
table-d'hote ;  but  so  cleverly  transferred  to  Charles,  that 
he  continued  to  think  Jones  his  own  protege  from  first  to 
last,  and  barely  felt  the  first  stirring  of  jealousy,  so  far 
as  his  wife  was  concerned. 

It  would,  indeed,  have  been  hard  for  any  gentleman, 
even  newly- wedded,  to  be  jealous  of  Jones  in  any  circum- 
stances, he  was  so  intensely  uninteresting.  He  had  abso- 
lutely no  distinguishing  features,  and  would  have  baffled 
the  most  practised  novelist,  or  detective,  to  describe.  He 
came  as  near  as  possible  to  being  invisible,  when  you 


4  DUKE  JONES 

glanced  down  the  double  rank  of  the  dinner-table:  and 
was  practically  inaudible  when  he  spoke,  contributing 
nothing  noteworthy  to  any  dialogue  in  which  he  took 
part,  only  existing,  so  to  express  it,  in  speech.  There  was 
probably  a  Jones  in  every  hotel  of  that  sea-front,  had  all 
been  known,  existing  in  the  same  innocuous  manner. 
When  Charles,  after  his  second  early-morning  encounter, 
on  the  way  to  bathe,  said  Jones  had  been  born  without 
an  aura, — that  was  what  he  meant. 

But  everybody  had  an  aura  for  Violet,  and  neither  of 
the  pair  was  easily  discouraged,  when  really  set  upon 
social  researches ;  and  a  seaside  hotel,  in  the  month  of 
June,  affords  many  such  opportunities.  How  they  came 
to  be  in  such  a  place  would  have  required  explanation, 
not  to  say  apology,  in  the  opinion  of  their  careful  friends. 
The  recorder  can  but  state  the  facts.  After  ten  days  or 
so  of  the  regulation  blissful  placidity,  in  a  nice  house  lent 
by  a  nice  relation  of  the  bride's  mother,  where  they  had 
extensive  grounds  to  walk  in,  with  stable,  garage,  and 
appendages  at  their  entire  disposal,  Violet  and  Charles 
removed  themselves,  without  any  notice,  to  a  populous 
hotel,  facing  one  of  the  most  frequented  bays  in  the  south- 
west corner  of  our  island,  where  they  were  not  nearly  so 
comfortable  or  so  private  as  they  had  been  at  Ingestre 
Hall:  where  they  had  to  pay  for  every  advantage  to 
which  they  were  accustomed  at  about  double  its  cost  price, 
and  could  not  get  a  self-respecting  horse,  or  a  car  fit  to 
look  at,  for  love  or  money.  What  they  gained  they  alone 
could  say;  but  they  were  thoroughly  satisfied  with 
the  proceeding, — and  neglected  to  warn  most  of  their 
acquaintance  where  they  had  vanished  to. 

Violet  sent,  of  course,  a  lovely  letter  to  her  mother's 
relative,  the  master  of  the  house  they  had  quitted,  enu- 
merating its  charms,  and  abusing  their  own  miserable 
unworthiness  of  its  blessings.  She  said  her  husband 
would  gladly  have  remained  there;  but  that  she  had  a 
sudden  morbid  curiosity  to  see  an  English  watering-place 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  5 

in  the  summer  season,  having  never,  during  the  twenty 
years  of  her  unmarried  existence,  had  the  chance.  So  she 
and  Charles  had  got  out  all  the  maps  in  Mr.  Ingestre's 
library,  and  fixed  on  a  place  with  a  nice  name.  She'  did 
not  disclose  what  name,  though  she  said  they  had  avoided 
Blackpool,  which  sounded  so  darkly  romantic,  with  diffi- 
culty. She  added  that  she  had  put  the  maps  away  where 
she  had  found  them,  that  she  had  stolen  none  of  the 
books  she  most  coveted,  and  that  her  cousin  John's 
librarian  was  evidently  a  wonderful  man. 

Mr.  Ingestre  laughed  over  the  letter,  which  was  neatly 
worded,  and  nicely  written,  and  asked  his  wife  if  she 
thought  the  girl  was  tired  of  her  bargain  already.  His 
wife  replied  that  she  was  only  spoiled  and  flighty,  and  that 
probably  the  young  fellow  wanted  to  spend  some  of  his 
easily-acquired  wealth. 

These  remarks  will  be  sufficient  to  show  the  way  the 
maternal  connection  in  general  spoke  of  Violet's  match 
among  themselves :  the  father's  side  was  naturally  differ- 
ent. It  was  Ashwins  solely  that  Violet  and  Charles  ad- 
mitted to  the  secret  of  their  elopement ;  though  even  there, 
by  an  elaborate  and  unnecessary  system  of  letters  under 
cover,  they  gave  them  as  much  trouble  as  possible  in  find- 
ing out  their  real  address.  This  was  Charles,  as  need 
barely  be  mentioned :  due  to  Charles'  passion  for  plotting 
solely.  The  tale  of  the  flight  from  Ingestre  Hall,  when 
properly  worked  up  by  Mr.  Shovell,  with  the  aid  of  count- 
less cigarettes,  upon  the  beach,  would  have  made  quite 
an  effective  column  for  a  society  paper. 

"  It  happened  by  night,"  he  wrote  to  his  step-sister  and 
Violet's  cousin,  Margery  Brading,  "  when  owls  were  flit- 
ting and  bats  hooting  about  the  Hall.  Bats  in  the  high  Hall 
garden — you  know  how  it  goes  on.  There  happens  to  be 
a  night  express  to  these  parts  (wherever  they  are),  as 
Violet  discovered  from  Bradshaw.  I  took  her  word  for  it. 
I  thought  she  never  used  trains,  but  she  says  she  does  *  on 
occasion.'  I  own  I  was  disappointed  in  her.  You  see, 


6  DUKE  JONES 

ever  since  we  got  to  the  Hall,  she  had  been  making  up  to 
the  Ingestres'  chauffeur,  anyone  would  have  said  with  an 
ulterior  purpose  in  the  near  future.  But  when  taxed,  she 
disclaimed  it,  only  remarking  that  she  liked  the  man.  Of 
course,  I  said  no  more.  I  bowed  to  Bradshaw  with  '  Be 
it  so.' 

"  I  did  not  for  a  moment  suppose  V.  had  found  a  train 
that  really  existed,  being  unused  to  such  things,  but,  as  it 
transpired,  she  had.  Towards  nine  on  a  moonless  night 
we  started,  several  of  the  Ingestre  retainers  holding 
torches  on  the  steps.  I  won't  deny  it's  a  good-looking 
house  to  elope  from,  whatever  you  may  think  of  living 
there,  but  I  spare  you  architectural  details.  A  page  from 
'  Woodstock '  will  give  you  the  sort  of  thing  you  want. 
Mrs.  Ingestre's  lap-dog,  a  vile  little  brute,  had  been 
silenced  with  a  poisoned  cracknel  biscuit,  the  kind  that  has 
holes  inside.  We  stole  to  the  barouche — I  saw  to  all  the  de- 
tails— and  with  a  wink  to  the  assembled  staff,  all  tipped 
beyond  their  wildest  dreams,  we  mounted.  When  we  were 
twenty  minutes  on  our  way,  and  the  station  lights  at  hand, 
V.  said  quietly  that  she  had  left  her  keys.  I  said  I  would 
do  anything  in  the  world  for  her  but  go  back  for  them, 
since  her  guardian's  bloodhounds  were  already  on  our 
trail.  She  didn't  rise,  she  only  looked  at  me  and  asked, 
still  quietly,  if  I  could  pick  a  lock.  I  said  I  could  pull  one, 
and  did.  But  she  didn't  rise  to  that,  either;  she  seemed 
vexed  in  mind.  She  said  her  father  always  picked  locks 
for  her  when  she  asked  him, — she  is  always  hurling  her 
father  at  me.  I  shall  hate  that  fellow  soon.  Later  on,  in 
the  comparative  security  of  our  reserved  compartment,  she 
found  her  keys — in  my  pocket.  But  she  was  not  really 
amused  even  then, — you  Ashwins  have  no  sense  of  humor. 

"  It  took  quite  a  time  to  restore  her  to  a  proper  frame  of 
mind — an  elopee's  frame,  festive  and  badinacious.  As  if  a 
key  more  or  less  could  matter !  Long  before  midnight  we 
should  be  held  up  by  a  score  of  men  in  masks,  the  Ingestre 
colors  on  their  sleeves,  and  we  should  lose  all  our  property, 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  7 

locked  or  otherwise,  and  escape  narrowly,  if  at  all,  with 
our  lives.  I  told  V.,  to  soothe  her,  that  a  shot  would  only 
reach  her  through  my  body :  and  she  said  she  would  accept 
a  second-hand  bullet  rather  than  give  up  her  pearls.  The 
word  '  second-hand  '  in  such  a  connection  struck  me  as 
both  nasty  and  unscientific,  because  no  bullet  really  could 
do  it,  as  I  proceeded  to  point  out.  The  mention  of  the 
pearls,  however,  explained  her  late  agitation,  and  though 
it  saddened  me  in  such  a  child,  I  made  allowances.  She 
simply  wants  to  cut  a  dash  at  table-d'hote,  being  tired  of 
merely  astonishing  the  Ingestres'  butler. 

"  Thus  our  differences  ended,  Margery,  and  I  took  her 
to  my  heart.  No,  I  didn't — no  such  luck.  I  took  her  hat 
off — no  less  than  four  pins — and  she  sat  on  my  knee  for 
half  an  hour,  and  lit  her  cigarette  at  my  match.  I  made 
her  come  more  than  half-way  for  the  light,  because  you 
can't  think  how  pretty  her  eyes  are  when  you  see  them 
close.  She  was  not  up  to  me  that  time,  laying  my  pro- 
ceeding to  the  draught  or  something,  and  I  very  nearly 
burnt  my  coat." 

Lady  Brading  smiled  over  the  latter  sentences,  and 
skipped  them  when  she  read  the  account  to  her  husband. 
She  perceived  the  situation,  knowing  both  the  actors  in  it 
intimately.  Charles  made  a  charming  Bassanio,  but  Violet 
could  not  have  followed  Portia  in  her  self-abandonment. 
She  was  still  schooling  her  shy  spirit  to  the  new  neces- 
sities. She  had  been  hurried  into  matrimony,  her  delicate 
plumage  ruffled  very  slightly,  and  needed  leisure  and 
equable  conditions  to  smooth  it  down.  Charles  was  too 
ardent — only  a  little,  but  still  too  much.  Margery  could 
see  her,  in  fancy,  setting  a  course  for  both,  daintily  and 
steadily,  guarding  the  future,  since  Charles,  she  knew, 
could  glorify  the  present  alone. 

Charles  continued  to  glorify,  in  the  absurd  letter  under 
his  step-sister's  hand.  He  still  thought  it  extremely  clever 
of  him,  evidently,  to  have  conquered  the  brilliant  Miss 
Ashwin,  or  at  least  to  possess  as  much  as  he  had  con- 


8  DUKE  JONES 

quered.  He  was  quite  ready  to  boast  of  it  to  all;  and 
Margery,  always  a  friend,  and  a  recent  bride  herself,  had 
most  of  his  confidences. 

"  The  gallant  train  held  good,"  his  account  proceeded. 
"  Though  bandits  and  bloodhounds  raged  in  her  wake, 
our  driver,  spurring  his  mettled  steed — steed  of  metal, — 
drew  ahead,  and  distanced  them.  (Distance  or  out-dis- 
tance? I  forget.)  Anyhow,  I  emptied  the  chambers  of 
my  revolver  thrice  from  either  window,  which  had  its 
effect.  V.  woke  up, — she  was  sleeping  with  her  head  on 
her  jewel-case, — and  asked  if  a  tire  had  punctured.  We 
entered  the  Duchy  at  dawn,  and  passing  the  frontier,  I 
breathed  again." 

"  They  are  in  Cornwall,"  observed  Margery  to  her  hus- 
band at  this  point.  "  Charlie  couldn't  resist  the  allitera- 
tion when  it  came  to  the  point." 

"  I  dare  say  he'll  give  the  rest  away  before  he's  done," 
said  Robert.  "  I  never  knew  anyone  take  such  pains  to 
keep  secrets  as  Shovell,  and  succeed  worse." 

"  There  are  pages  yet,''  said  Margery,  turning  them 
over.  "  He  can't  stop  writing  about  her,  once  he  begins." 

"  Oh  well,"  said  Robert  thoughtfully,  "  that's  no  harm." 

"  We  arrived,"  Charles  proceeded,  "  travel-worn,  but 
with  the  pearls  intact,  and  all  the  pins  in  place.  V.  didn't 
trust  me  to  dig  them  in  again,  I  noticed.  Do  you  trust 
Bob?  We  received  a  warm  welcome  at  our  destination 
(wherever  it  is).  *  This,'  I  said  to  V.,  who  was  looking  otit 
of  the  lattice  of  our  hostelry,  '  is  the  chief  fishing  village 
of  the  Duchy;  and  those  are  the  Duchy-men,  walking 
about.' " 

"  St.  Ives,  probably,"  said  Robert,  taking  his  pipe  out. 
"  There  are  some  good  hotels  there.  Sorry,  Margery, — 
go  on." 

"'And  out  there?'  said  V.  inquiringly.  'Oh,  that's 
the  sea,'  I  said,  with  proper  pride.  '  We  reached  the  coast, 
my  child,  and  further  than  this,  we  need  not  go  at  present, 
though  we  must  hold  ourselves  in  readiness  for  what  the 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  9 

morrow  may  bring  forth.'  '  It  is  the  morrow,  isn't  it? ' 
said  V.,  who  seemed  sleepy.  '  I  hope  it  will  bring  forth 
breakfast  shortly,  for  your  sake,  Charles.  It  was  really 
rather  clever  of  you  to  hit  on  such  a  beautiful  place.'  I 
had  not,  but  she  is  always  civil,  as  you  know.  She  asked 
if  there  were  dispatches  from  England,  quite  in  the  proper 
style,  and  learning  there  were  not,  sank  on  the  sofa, 
while  I  quaffed  my  coffee,  and  cut  hunks  from  the  haunch 
with  my  poniard.  She  lay  there  most  of  the  morning,  re- 
fusing all  suggestions  from  me  and  others,  and  blinking 
at  the  Bay.  I  think  night- journeys  are  a  beastly  institu- 
tion, and  called  myself  an  ass,  at  intervals,  all  day  long. 
She  informed  me  more  than  once  how  kind  I  was,  when 
I  fetched  her  things :  and  she  laughed  twice  at  my  jokes, 
— a  sinister  sign.  But  she  would  not  admit  she  was 
fagged,  and  after  dinner,  in  what  I  believe  they  call  the 
gloaming,  she  went  a  walk  with  me  along  the  beach.  (I 
here  omit  a  page  of  description.  There  was  nothing  really 
in  sight  but  the  sea  and  the  shore,  unless  you  count  the 
sky;  except  some  decent-looking  rocks,  where  I  shall 
bathe.)  Luckily  there  was  a  stiff  wind,  so  I  could  get  my 
arm  right  round  her  without  offense.  She  had  to  accept 
it,  to  stand  up.  Probably  she  shouldn't  have  tried  to  walk 
at  all, — I  rather  wish  that  maid  of  the  Ingestres'  had  come 
along,  to  manage  her.  That  was  my  cursed  selfishness 
again,  because  I  barred  the  maid.  You  never  get  a  mo- 
ment's privacy  with  servants  jumping  out  on  you  from 
every  corner." 

"  Oh,"  said  Margery.  M  Now  I  begin  to  see.  It  was  his 
idea  to  move,  not  hers." 

"  Humph,"  said  Robert,  smoking.  Robert  also  knew 
both  the  elements  of  this  union,  and  in  the  quality  of  col- 
lege comrade,  he  considered  that  he  saw  through  Charles. 

"  It  was  a  very  nice  walk,"  Charles  continued  jauntily, 
"  in  itself  quite  worth  eloping  for.  Every  known  variety 
of  sand  can  be  observed  on  this  shore,  and  is  collected  with 
ease  in  the  pockets,  or  any  part  of  the  person,  when  the 


io  DUKE  JONES 

wind  blows.  It  flew  out  in  clouds  when  V.  brushed  her 
hair  to-night,  and  I  shook  a  lot  out  of  my  eyebrows.  To 
shave  both  in  the  Oriental  manner  seems  to  be  the  only 
remedy.  We  discovered  a  lighthouse  on  our  return,  and 
spent  a  long  time  at  the  window  watching  it,  some  hours, 
I  should  say ;  but  the  light  came  round,  without  the  small- 
est hesitation,  every  time.  A  wonderful  thing  is  science. 
V.  said,  a  propos  of  the  lighthouse's  behavior,  that  she 
did  admire  impartiality.  (I  fine  her  sixpence  for  long 
words  like  that,  a  penny  for  every  syllable.)  I  said  I 
hated  impartiality,  particularly  in  women.  That  was  one 
of  the  things  she  laughed  at, — the  other  I  am  afraid  I  have 
forgotten.  V.  and  I  never  agree,  unless  she  is  really  seedy, 
as  she  was  that  beastly  time  in  the  spring ;  and  even  then 
she  generally  contradicted  me  with  her  eyes  shut." 

Quite  at  the  end  of  the  silly  letter,  Charles  turned 
serious. 

"  I  do  wish  she  was  well,"  he  said ;  "  not  better,  but  well. 
Dr.  Ashwin  is  a  great  nob,  but  he  did  not  bring  it  off  in  his 
own  household,  and  I've  an  idea  conditions  were  against 
him.  I  believe  her  mother  baited  her  to  death  those  last 
weeks, — I  wish  I  could  get  behind  that  woman.  We  had 
some  pretty  little  scenes,  the  three  of  us, — four,  rather, 
because  Lady  A.  always  lugs  her  husband  in,  but  it  was 
only  towards  the  end  I  began  to  see  how  the  land  lay.  If  I 
ever  find  her  ladyship  saying  things  about  me,  Margery, 
there'll  be  a  murder  in  the  society  papers.  She  hates 
Violet,  and  can't  understand  anyone  liking  her;  I  believe 
that's  the  long  and  short  of  it.  Jolly  domestic  situation,  I 
don't  think.  I  am  only  thankful  I  have  brought  my  girl 
off  before  she  was  completely  done  for." 

That  was  the  description  of  the  new  quarters  and  con- 
ditions supplied  to  Margery ;  other  briefer  ones  to  Charles' 
mother  and  Violet's  father,  during  the  days  that  followed, 
suggested  that  the  pair  were  happy,  and  actively  occupied. 
They  occupied  other  people  too.  There  was  another  newly- 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  n 

married  couple  in  the  hotel,  who  shared  the  general  interest 
with  Violet  and  Charles,  but,  as  they  were  the  latest 
arrivals,  the  Shovells  came  in  for  a  good  deal.  All  the 
women — even  the  other  bride — admitted  he  was  fright- 
fully good-looking ;  the  men  differed  about  her,  the  other 
bridegroom  declaring  her  plain.  Somebody  asked  Jones, 
being  the  Shovells'  nearest  neighbor,  and  owning  the  other 
end  of  their  balcony,  how  they  spent  their  time. 

"  Oh,  they're  always  talking,"  said  E.  M.  Jones. 

"  To  one  another,  or  to  you  ?  "  said  the  inquirer,  rather 
wickedly. 

"  I  have  spoken  to  them,"  said  Jones.  "  I  lent  her  my 
cycling-map  one  day,  and  she  said  a  thing  or  two  when 
she  returned  it." 

"  Pretty  uppish,  isn't  she  ?  "  said  a  golfing-man. 

"  Oh  well,"  said  Jones,  "  I  didn't  notice  it.  She  spoke 
like  anybody  else." 

"  Talked  to  him  ?  "  asked  the  usual  father  of  a  trouble- 
some family. 

"  He's  all  right,"  said  Jones.    "  Oh  yes,  we  talked  a  bit." 

"  Cultivated,  isn't  he  ?  "  asked  the  pretty  American  girl. 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  Jones.  "  He  lent  me  a  sheet  of  the 
'  Times.'  They  take  it." 

"  What  were  you  on,  then  ?  "  his  inquisitive  neighbor 
pressed  him.  "  Politics  ?  " 

"  Cricket,"  said  Jones ;  and  walked  off,  leaving  a  dis- 
appointed circle.  Mr.  Jones  was  rather  a  secretive  little 
man,  the  hotel  ladies  had  agreed  among  themselves,  and 
rather  stupid.  He  invariably  understood  a  question  liter- 
ally, and  answered  it  simply,  not  to  say  shortly  too.  He 
had  no  idea  of  branching  out,  and  being  agreeable,  at  least 
on  personal  themes.  The  hotel  ladies  did  not  often  touch 
on  any  others, — one  does  not,  in  holiday  time.  Jones  was, 
to  sum  up  the  feminine  opinion,  rather  disappointing,  for 
he  had  the  look  of  being  easily  managed,  and  was  quite 
ready  to  be  useful  otherwise.  The  word  "  rather,"  it  will 
be  seen,  qualified  every  epithet  applied  to  Jones.  He  was 


12  DUKE  JONES 

nothing  in  exaggeration,  and  the  hotel  ladies  frequently 
forgot  all  about  him,  even  when  he  was  sitting  in  their 
midst. 

As  for  the  men,  they  liked  him  well  enough.  Every  kind 
of  man  had  a  word  for  him  willingly;  and  he  was  an 
excellent  person  to  grumble  to  on  a  rainy  day.  "  Harm- 
less little  beggar,"  was  the  way  the  men  put  it,  "  though  a 
bit  strait-laced."  The  latter  capital  term  for  Jones  was 
discovered  by  Mr.  Studley,  the  other  bridegroom,  when  he 
was  presenting  the  world  with  his  views  on  womenkind  one 
day.  On  this  occasion  there  was  nothing  at  all  offensive 
in  Jones'  behavior,  and  he  really  said  nothing,  since  he 
was  reading ;  but  Mr.  Studley  resented  his  fashion  of  read- 
ing, apparently,  and  found  that  name  for  him  afterwards. 

As  soon  as  he  had  walked  away  from  the  representative 
assembly,  who  had  questioned  him  about  the  Shovells,  the 
assembly  talked  about  Jones,  as  need  not  be  said ;  and  his 
late  neighbor,  vexed  at  being  defrauded  of  details  as  to 
the  young  couple's  private  life,  which  Jones  must  have 
spied  upon,  and  their  private  conversations,  which  he  must 
have  overheard,  was  rather  spiteful. 

"  He  admires  her  awfully,  I  believe,"  said  Jones'  neigh- 
bor. "  He's  always  looking  at  her,  anyhow ;  and  she  made 
him  talk  quite  a  lot  last  night,  at  dinner.  He  moved  to 
that  front  room  on  purpose,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised.  I 
wonder  if  the  girl's  a  flirt." 

"  She  doesn't  dress  like  one,"  said  the  other  bride,  who 
was  exhibiting  her  trousseau,  and  changing  for  every  meal. 

There  was  a  violent  discussion  instantly ;  and  such  men 
as  happened  to  be  present  left  in  haste.  The  exact  social 
status  of  Mrs.  Shovell  vexed  the  popular  mind  a  good  deal. 
Even  the  question  as  to  whether  her  pearls  were  real  was 
not  yet  exhausted  in  the  community;  and  her  otherwise 
quiet  and  girlish  style  was  generally  considered  to  be  out 
of  keeping,  both  with  the  improbable  pearls,  and  with  her 
position  as  a  two-weeks'  bride. 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  13 

ii 

The  summary  of  his  lively  young  neighbors  by  Jones 
was  requited,  as  we  have  already  hinted,  by  absolutely 
indefatigable  analysis  of  Jones,  from  every  point  of  view 
and  at  every  opportunity,  on  the  part  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Charles.  It  was  a  wonderful  and  fortunate  dispensation 
that,  but  two  days  after  he  first  fell  beneath  their  notice 
at  table-d'hote,  he  should  be  moved  by  the  landlord  to 
the  adjacent  room  to  theirs,  suddenly  vacated  by  one  of 
the  golfing  gentlemen. 

"  If  this  were  a  detective  story,"  said  Charles  to  Violet, 
one  early  afternoon,  during  that  drowsy  period  when  most 
of  the  seaside  world,  after  the  effort  of  a  morning  bathe, 
is  snoozing  contentedly  on  beach  or  balcony, — "  I  should 
assume  at  once  that  Jones  was  after  your  pearls.  His 
colorless  manner  is  against  him.  Shall  we  assume  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Violet,  who  was  engaged  on  a 
business  letter,  and  being  badly  interrupted  by  Charles  at 
intervals. 

"  Oh  well,"  mused  Charles,  who  was  smoking  in  a  com- 
fortable chair,  "  we  can  afford  to  let  it  slide.  Because  I 
notice  they  have  a  different  theory  downstairs." 

"Did  you  speak,  dear?"  said  Mrs.  Shovell  after  a 
silence. 

"  Yes,  darling.  I  said  I  noticed  they  had  a  different 
theory  to  account  for  Jones'  intrusion  on  our  balcony 
downstairs." 

14  It's  not  all  our  balcony,"  said  Violet,  folding  her  letter ; 
"  so  he  can't  intrude.  At  least,  I  don't  regard  it  as  mine." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Jones  wishes  it  was,"  said 
Charles.  "That,"  he  added  hastily,  "is  the  theory  I 
referred  to." 

Violet  tossed  her  letter  on  the  table,  pushed  back  her 
chair,  and  looked  at  him.  "  Charles,  don't  be  a  goose,"  she 
said,  faintly  coloring.  "  That's  just  the  sort  of  gossip  I 
hate  worst.  And,  anyhow,  you  have  no  right  to  listen  to  it." 


14  DUKE  JONES 

"  I  have  the  best  right,"  said  Charles  gravely.  "  If  any 
such  things  are  said  of  you,  I  ought  to  know." 

"  It's  not  fair  to  him,  either,"  argued  Violet.  "  He 
struck  me  as  a  particularly  nice  young  man, — really  nice, 
I  mean.  It  is  probably  because  he  holds  apart  from  all 
those  gossiping  idlers  that  they  attack  him." 

"  I  don't  regard  it  as  an  attack,"  said  Charles.  "  Granted 
it  was  true,  I  should  consider  it  very  natural  on  Jones' 
part.  Besides,  you  were  rather  forward  the  other  night 
at  dinner,  you  know." 

"  Leave  the  subject,"  said  Violet  definitely.  "  You  must 
be  forward,  or  not  talk  at  all,  with  a  person  like  that ;  and 
as  for  the  room,  he  asked  to  have  it  because,  like  every- 
body else,  he  enjoys  the  view.  The  sea- view,"  she 
appended,  just  in  time. 

"  All  right,"  said  Charles.  "  And  he  got  the  room  with 
the  sea-view,  because,  unlike  everybody  else,  he  can  afford 
to  pay  for  it." 

"  Oh  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell,  pained.  "  Isn't  it  terrible 
that  things  like  that  can  be  paid  for  ?  "  She  had  risen  and 
stood  near  him  at  the  window,  sweeping  the  blue  bay 
with  her  gray  eyes.  "  I  wish  you  had  not  reminded  me 
of  it." 

"  As  usual,  you  fail  to  take  my  point,"  said  Charles, 
catching  at  her  sleeve.  "  My  point  was " 

"  That  Jones  has  money,"  said  Violet,  eluding  him.  "  I 
guessed  that  before.  It  is  one  of  the  things  that  makes 
him  interesting." 

"  It's  the  only  thing  that  makes  him  interesting  in  the 
eyes  of  the  people  downstairs,"  said  Charles.  "  But  I 
thought  you  were  above  all  that."  He  looked  at  her  with 
reproach. 

"  No,"  said  Violet,  considering  it ;  "I  think  wealth  is 
an  element  to  be  reckoned  with,  even  psychologically " 

"  Sixpence !  "  broke  in  Charles  exultantly,  and  held  out 
his  hand. 

Violet  slapped  the  hand,  and  said  her  money  was  up- 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  15 

stairs.  Charles  said  he  would  let  her  off  if  she  would  come 
and  tell  him  her  whole  theory  of  Jones. 

Violet  accepted  the  bargain  so  far  as  to  sit  on  the  arm  of 
his  chair,  and  allow  him  to  tell  her  his  whole  theory,  which 
was  probably  what  he  meant. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Charles  darkly,  "  that  this  man  is  the 
Jones." 

"Which?  "said  Violet. 

"  The  one  we  all  allude  to  when  we  use  the  term.  Brown 
and  Robinson  probably  exist  as  well,  but  I  always  pictured 
Jones  as  the  most  prominent.  In  other  words,  Jones  is  the 
man  in  the  street.  Our  Jones  is  the  man  in  the  street.  I 
have  even  proved  it." 

"  How  ?  "  said  Violet,  leaning  back  amused,  and  conse- 
quently tractable. 

"  I  asked  him  his  opinion  of  the  present  Government," 
said  Charles.  "  And  Jones  said,  *  rotten.'  Now,  if  he  had 
said  *  rotten  at  the  core,'  I  should  have  taken  him  for  a 
serious  politician,  of  the  opposite  faction  naturally,  a 
profound  thinker,  an  occasional  lecturer  on  sociology,  and 
generally  speaking  the  sort  of  man  I  loathe.  But  when 
Jones  said  rotten,  he  meant  rotten,  proving  himself  to  be 
the  Jones  I  said.  He  called  the  Lancashire  bowling  rotten 
too,  likewise  the  weather  until  we  came,  and  the  cookery  at 
Jiis  last  hotel,  and  the  view  from  his  other  window.  Do 
you  see  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Violet.  "  You  needn't  go  ont  I  be- 
lieve I  could  have  guessed  the  word  without  annotation." 

"  I  never  know,"  said  Charles,  shutting  his  eyes,  "if 
you  are  up  to  the  full  signification  of  the  more  ordinary 
vocables  of  our  currency.  Your  own  collection  is  unique." 

"  I  am  adding  a  quantity  to  it,  every  day,"  said  Violet. 
"  I  believe  I  could  talk  like  you  at  this  moment ;  or  like 
Mr.  Jones'  sister,  if  I  had  to.  Shall  I  try?  " 

"  Don't,  for  heaven's  sake !  "  Mr.  Shovell's  eyes  came 
open.  "  My  dear  girl,  how  you  frightened  me." 

"  Well,  you  were  caricaturing  me,"  said  Violet.   "  Teas- 


16  DUKE  JONES 

ing.  I  am  not  used  to  being  teased  about  the  way  I  speak. 
Father " 

"  Drop  it,"  said  Charles,  getting  a  hand  across  her 
mouth, — which  implies,  of  course,  that  the  arm  was 
already  round  her.  "  To  proceed :  having  conjectured  that 
he  was  the  Jones,  it  became  my  object  to  discover  his 
Christian  name.  It  instantly  becomes  a  question  of  ab- 
sorbing interest.  You  admit  that  ?  " 

Violet  admitted,  so  far  as  he  would  let  her. 

"  Do  you  think  the  E.  or  the  M.  is  the  one  he  uses  at 
home  ?  "  said  Charles. 

"  The  M.,"  said  Violet,  freeing  herself.  "  Two  of  the 
envelopes  we  saw  were  addressed  '  M.  Jones,  Esquire,' 
anyhow.  And  I  can  tell  you  what  his  name  is  not,  Charles, 
and  that's  Michael." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Charles,  interested  in  turn. 

"  Because  Michael  is  the  name  of  an  up-to-date  hero, 
and  a  woman's  favorite.  And  your  Jones  is  neither." 

"  My  Jones  would  fain  be,"  suggested  Charles.  "  All 
right, — he's  not  Michael.  Nor  Maurice,  I  presume,  for 
the  same  reason.  Maximilian  is  a  shade  too  warlike,  so 
is  Manfred ;  and  Marius  too  classical.  Miles " 

"  Impossible,"  said  Violet.  "  Miles  Jones !  No  mother 
could." 

"  Well,"  said  Charles,  "  what  sort  of  name  could  a 
mother?  I  leave  it  to  you." 

Her  faint  color  rose  instantly.  "  I  only  mean  you  must 
think  of  the  combination.  Not  a  monosyllable,  anyhow. 
Mortimer  and  Mordaunt  both  sound  nice " 

"  So  does  Melchisedec,"  said  Charles.  "  I  believe  we 
have  exhausted  the  lot,  and  got  no  nearer.  This  work,  my 
dear,  every  day,  is  almost  too  much  for  me.  Shall  I  ask 
him  ?  He's  out  there  on  the  balcony  now." 

"  Charles !  "  She  sat  up,  one  little  hand  clenched  at  her 
breast.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  Could  he  have  heard  ?  " 

"  Only  the  murmur  of  voices,"  Charles  consoled  her. 
"  Whispers  from  Elysium,  and  so  on.  And  there  stands 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  17 

Jones,  eating  his  lion-heart,  alone.  I'm  sorry  for  that 
fellow.  You  might  go  and  be  nice  to  him,  V." 

"  You  can,"  said  Violet,  rising  from  her  place  at  his  side 
unexpectedly,  so  that  he  had  really  no  time  to  prevent  it. 
Her  movements  were  all  neat  and  swift,  like  a  bird's.  "  I 
am  going  out,  to  register  my  letter.  Is  yours  finished  to 
Maud  ?  Because  if  so,  I  will  take  it." 

"  It's  about  a  quarter  as  long  as  Margery's,"  said 
Charles,  looking  at  the  sheet  on  the  table  discontentedly. 
(He  had  been  supposed  to  be  writing  it,  all  this  time.) 
"  I  can  never  find  so  much  to  say  to  Maud.  I  wish  Maud 
would  get  married,  that  would  make  it  easier  for  a  fellow." 

"  You  must  be  very  short  of  subjects,"  remarked  Violet. 
"  I  wish  I  had  written  to  dear  Maud,  but  there's  no  time 
now.  Put  my  love  in,  and  fasten  it  up."  She  held  it  to 
him.  "  Here's  a  stamp." 

"  What  do  you  bet,"  said  Charles,  licking  all  the  corners 
of  the  stamp  in  turn,  to  punctuate  his  sentence,  and  to 
waste  her  time,  "  that  I  find  out  Jones'  second  name  before 
I  see  you, — and  his  birthplace,  club,  favorite  modern  poet, 
— and  the  address  of  his  tailor?  " 

"  Do  be  quiet,  Charles,"  she  said  gently.  "  You  make 
me  so  nervous,  when  the  windows  are  open.  He  can't 
help  his  tailor,  probably." 

"  Sorry,  darling,"  said  Charles.  "  I  was  only  gassing 
vacantly,  as  usual.  My  intentions  are  honorable  to  worthy 
Jones,  as  these  results  shall  prove.  Now  cut  along  and 
get  some  air.  Only  just  tell  me  where  to  pick  you  up  when 
you  have  finished  business, — I  mean,  when  I  have  finished 
it." 

Violet  told  him  exactly  where,  and  when,  and  left  him 
in  the  hope  he  had  been  really  attending  to  what  she  said. 
When  he  was  looking  at  her  simultaneously,  she  was  never 
sure. 


i8  DUKE  JONES 


in 

Mr.  Shovell,  an  easy-going  young  gentleman,  as  the 
attentive  reader  may  have  guessed,  spent  a  good  hour 
smoking  with  Jones,  each  resting  an  elbow  on  the  parti- 
tion-rail of  their  common  balcony.  Starting  from  cricket, 
he  found  out  a  number  of  things — useful  and  the  reverse. 
Then  he  wandered  through  the  veranda,  making  him- 
self irregularly  agreeable,  and  found  out  a  number  more. 
Finally,  he  had  a  talk  in  the  office  with  the  proprietress, 
who,  like  most  motherly  women  of  her  class,  loved  him  on 
sight,  and  gave  him  details  she  would  not  have  given  to 
others.  Then,  bursting  with  information,  and  needing 
leisure  to  sort  it,  he  strolled  out  in  the  direction  of  the 
place  Violet  had  named,  arrived  there  a  good  deal  later 
than  the  time  she  said,  and,  not  unnaturally,  missed  her. 
Consequently,  after  lounging  about  for  a  time,  looking  at 
other  girls,  and  making  comparisons,  he  found  he  was 
hungry,  and  was  driven  to  return  in  his  tracks  to  the 
hotel. 

"  Hullo ! "  said  Charles,  espying  the  form  of  Jones  still 
on  his  second-floor  balcony  as  he  passed  beneath.  "  Hap- 
pen to  know  if  my  wife's  up  there?  " 

This  highly  characteristic  accost,  at  the  full  pitch  of  his 
lungs,  reached  the  entire  rank  of  tea-drinking  loungers  in 
the  veranda,  who  were  considerably  amused;  and  more 
than  reached  its  object,  whom  it  discomposed  in 
proportion. 

"  Really,  I  don't  know,"  his  answer  came  back,  amid  a 
rustle  of  newspapers.  "  I  think  so."  Mr.  Jones,  with  a 
balustrade  between  him  and  the  Shovells'  balcony,  could 
not  be  supposed  to  see  inside  the  Shovells'  room. 

"  All  right,"  said  Charles  easily.  "  Don't  fag."  He 
stooped,  chose  a  stone,  and  tossed  it  up  at  the  half-opened 
window  next  to  Jones'.  Admirably  well  aimed,  it  dis- 
appeared within.  Arousing  by  this  means,  however,  no 


19 

response,  not  even  the  crash  of  broken  glass  or  tea-cups, 
Charles  was  forced  to  assume  either  that  Violet  had  not 
returned,  or  that  she  was  in  her  bedroom,  changing ;  and 
he  strolled  airily  into  the  porch. 

"  Seen  my  wife?  "  he  once  more  inquired,  as  he  passed 
the  group  of  men  who  generally  sat,  like  an  outpost,  at 
the  entry.  Observing  the  pretty  American  girl  among 
them,  he  removed  his  hat,  and  concentrated  his  inquiry 
upon  her. 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  lady  at  leisure,  "  I  presume 
Mrs.  Shovell's  still  inside  that  room,  since  she  was  outside 
it  just  lately,  speaking  to  Mr.  Jones." 

Charles  stopped  short,  and  pausing,  seemed  to  blush. 
"  You  don't  say  so,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  Then  he 
laughed  of  a  sudden,  sketched  the  young  lady  a  saluta- 
tion, and  dashed  upstairs. 

"  Isn't  he  fascinating?  "  remarked  the  girl  to  her  sur- 
roundings. "  As  fresh !  That's  the  way  I'd  like  a  man  to 
be  in  love  with  me."  Since  at  least  six  men  were  in  hear- 
ing, this  classed  the  American  girl  beyond  redemption  in 
the  opinion  of  at  least  six  spinster  ladies.  There  were 
innumerable  such  ladies  in  that  hotel,  as  it  has  not  been 
necessary  to  insist. 

"  Surely  you  received  my  stone  ?  "  said  Charles  politely 
to  Violet.  She  was  inside  the  room,  sure  enough,  reclin- 
ing in  a  chair  beside  the  tea-tray,  and  reading  a  letter 
with  close  attention.  Her  likeness  to  her  clever  father 
struck  Charles  forcibly  when  she  was  studious.  She 
glanced  up  at  his  entrance,  and  laying  the  letter  aside, 
handed  him  his  tea-cup  in  one  hand,  and  the  stone  in  the 
other,  mutely. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  out  and  talk  to  us  ? "  said 
Charles. 

"  I  didn't  want  to  move,"  she  said  lightly.    "  Lazy." 

Charles  took  his  tea,  and  three  slices  of  bread  and  but- 
ter, carefully. 

"  That's  right,"  he  advised  her.    "  Let  me  down  easy, 


20  DUKE  JONES 

— I  can't  stand  much.  Did  it  hit  you  or  the  looking-glass, 
darling?" 

She  shook  her  head.    "  I  caught  it,"  she  explained. 

"  Jolly  smart  of  you,"  said  Charles,  approving.  As  he 
subsided  into  his  low  chair  he  added — "  It's  what  I 
thought  I  should  do,  but  I  haven't  yet.*' 

No  response :  Violet  was  smiling  very  slightly,  though 
her  eyes  were  diverted  to  her  letter.  After  a  pause, 
Charles  put  his  tea-cup  down,  and  drove  his  hands  in  his 
pockets. 

"  V.,"  he  said,  with  solemnity.  (This  was  the  name  on 
which  he  had  finally  resolved,  after  much  fertile  experi- 
ment.) "  You  will  be  glad  to  know  that,  since  the  late 
incident,  Miss  Hattie  What's-her-name  below  there  allows 
you  are  just  too  elegant  to  live." 

"  Are  you  sure?  "  said  Violet.  "  It  doesn't  sound  quite 
right." 

"  Well,  that's  the  line." 

"  Poor  Charles,"  said  Violet,  with  a  glance  at  him. 
"Did  you  feel  snubbed?" 

"  I  did.  By  Jones  positively,  and  negatively  by  you.  I 
carried  it  off  extremely  well,"  declared  Charles.  "Ask 
Miss  H.  if  I  didn't, — but  the  experience  has  left  its  mark. 
Don't  you  think  it's  the  thing,  V.,  to  say  you're  sorry?  " 

"  Don't  you  think  it's  the  thing  to  stop  satirizing  me?  " 
said  Violet.  "  I  can't  help  what  I  am."  She  spoke 
quickly :  but  almost  immediately  she  got  up,  came  behind 
his  chair,  and  kissed  him, — entirely  of  her  own  accord. 

"  You  must  put  up  with  me  for  the  present,"  she  said, 
on  a  breath  as  light  as  the  kiss,  and  would  have  withdrawn 
again,  but  he  seized  her. 

"  You  little  angel, — now,  listen  here.  I  apologize  for 
my  beastly  manners,  that's  understood.  And  I'll  keep 
that  stone,  and  shy  it  at  anyone  who  says  a  thing,  harm- 
less or  otherwise,  about  you  or  Jones.  I  shy  jolly  straight, 
so  they'll  be  sorry.  Now  tell  me  what  you  were  worrying 
over,  when  I  came  in.  My  manners  ?  " 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  21 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  Your  manners  are  unusually  good, 
— I  always  thought  so ;  so  did  Father." 

"  Is  that  letter  from  your  father?  "  said  Charles. 

"  No,"  said  Violet ;  "  from  Mother." 

He  made  a  brusque  movement,  but  she  was  still  behind 
him,  holding  his  head  with  her  slight  firm  hands ;  so,  after 
an  instant,  he  took  the  hint  and  subsided. 

"  It's  unheard-of,  of  course,  that  Mother  should  write," 
said  Violet.  "  It's  not  her  way.  But  I  suppose  our  being 
in  this  part  of  the  world  was  convenient.  She  says  I  am 
to  go  and  see  the  Addenbrokes,  at  Torquay." 

"  Oh,  curse !  "  said  Mr.  Shovell  equably.    "  We  can't." 

"  Not  you,"  said  Violet.  "  Mother  does  not  suggest  it. 
I  am  to  go.  It  seems  that  the  Addenbrokes  are  in  hot 
water,  as  usual." 

"  More  kith  ?  "  inquired  Charles,  subsiding  still  more 
under  her  expert  handling.  Violet  never  "  pawed  "  peo- 
ple, but  her  touch  was  agreeable  and  suggestive. 

"  Very  distant,  but  Mother's  people  are  responsible  for 
them.  They  are  connected  with  the  Ingestres  on  the 
mother's  side, — like  me.  Are  you  bored  with  my  kith, 
Charles?" 

M  I  can  stand  hearing  about  'em,"  said  Charles  thought- 
fully. 

"  Well,  you  shall  have  a  cigarette  to  carry  you  through." 
She  picked  his  pockets  and  chose  him  one,  while  Charles 
finished  his  tea  and  looked  on  at  the  operation.  "  Mother's 
family  is  complicated,"  she  explained,  "  because  the  In- 
gestres all  marry,  and  mostly  have  large  families,  Mother 
herself  being  an  exception.  There !  "  She  put  the  cigar- 
ette between  his  teeth,  and  lit  it  for  him.  "  No,  I  shall 
not  smoke  till  after  dinner.  Father  says  I  must  cut  my- 
self down, — or  he  will  cut  me  off.  Tiresome  pedant,  isn't 
he  ?  He  says  I  overdid  it  in  the  spring,  when  I  never  sup- 
posed he  was  noticing.  Are  you  quite  comfortable? — very 
well."  She  replaced  her  hands,  and  herself,  where  she 
had  been  before, — behind  him  and  just  out  of  sight.  "  The 


22  DUKE  JONES 

Addenbrokes  are  a  pair  of  orphan  girls,  one  clever,  and 
one  pretty, — both  rather  fearfully  so.  Have  you  grasped 
that?" 

"  It's  a  good  start,"  said  Charles,  smoking. 

"  They  were  not  brought  up  at  all,"  proceeded  Violet, 
"  by  an  extraordinary  artist  father,  their  mother  being  a 
negative  quantity.  Honoria  and  Felicia  are  their  beau- 
tiful names, — all  their  father  could  do  for  them,  because 
he  did  nothing  else.  He  neither  educated,  nor  earned  for 
them,  so  far  as  I  could  ever  discover.  Both  the  parents 
were  killed  in  a  frightful  train-smash  nine  years  ago, — 
(Have  I  really  not  told  you  this?) — and  after  that  the 
Ingestres  had  to  bestir  themselves.  You  know  something 
of  the  Ingestres,"  said  Violet,  her  eyes  on  her  mother's 
letter,  "  so  you  know  how  much  they  object  to  that.  They 
are  lazy,  huffy  people ;  hard  to  move — in  all  senses.  But 
Mr.  Addenbroke  mentioned  Mother  in  his  will, — I  don't 
think  she  has  ever  forgiven  him, — so  finally,  she  supplied 
the  money,  and  Cousin  Agnes, — that's  the  sister  of  Mrs. 
Addenbroke,  and  of  Mr.  Ingestre  at  the  Hall, — took 
charge  of  the  girls.  Have  you  got  that  straight  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  can  do  it,"  said  Charles. 

"  Cousin  Agnes  got  the  worst  of  the  bargain,"  observed 
Violet.  "  She  has  had  nothing  but  trouble  with  them  ever 
since." 

"  What  kind  of  a  party  is  she  ?  "  asked  Charles. 

"  Cousin  Agnes  ?  She  is  a  widow,  pious  and  invalidish, 
living  at  Torquay.  The  Addenbroke  girls  live  with  her 
when  they  are  not  teaching.  I  think  Honoria  teaches  still, 
that  is:  the  other  one  does  certainly.  I  am  very,  very 
sorry,"  said  Violet  dreamily,  "  for  both  their  schools." 

"  But  why  should  you  be  bothered  about  it  ? "  said 
Charles,  frowning.  "  That's  what  I  can't  see." 

"  Oh, — that's  Mother.  Cousin  Agnes  wrote  to  Mother, 
describing  Felicia's  latest,  and  wondering  if  Mother  could 
do  anything.  Mother  sends  Cousin  Agnes'  letter  on  to  me. 
That's  Ingestre  behavior  all  over.  The  only  difference 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  23 

between  them  is,  Cousin  Agnes  thinks  I  might  be  some 
good,  and  Mother  obviously  does  not.  She  does  not 
conceal  it  from  me." 

"  Then  why  bother  you  at  all?  "  persisted  Charles. 

"  To  get  rid  of  the  letter."  Violet  laughed.  "  Mother 
hates  such  things  lying  about.  And  it's  quite  providential 
my  being  here,  isn't  it?  So  near,  as  she  says.  Mother's 
contempt  for  geography  is  quite  splendid,  and  always 
was."  She  waited  an  instant.  "  I  am  sorry  about  it, 
Charles,"  she  said,  her  finger-tips  emphasizing  her  sorrow. 
"  If  I  had  thought  of  any  such  annoyance  for  you,  I  would 
have  gone  anywhere  else.  It's  not  as  if  I  could  do  any- 
thing really, — only  they  think  I  can.  Honoria  thoroughly 
alarms  the  Ingestres, — she  was  a  third  Wrangler  and 
goodness  knows  what  at  Cambridge, — before  your  day, 
she's  twenty-nine.  The  only  time  I  met  her,"  said  Violet 
thoughtfully,  "  she  struck  me  as  a  stupid  girl.  I  have  no 
natural  sympathy  with  mathematicians ;  that  may  be  the 
reason." 

"  The  reason  may  be,  you're  jolly  clever  and  she's  not," 
said  Charles  concisely.  "  All  the  Wranglers  I  ever  met 
were  asses,  anyhow.  Are  the  ructions  with  her,  or  with 
the  younger  one  ?  " 

"  Both,  probably,"  said  Violet.  "  They  are  both  terrors, 
in  their  ways.  Honoria  never  has  understood  Felicia  the 
least,  or  tried  to.  Perhaps  she  can't." 

"  What's  Felicia  ?  "  said  Charles.  "  How  does  she  rile 
the  Wrangler,  I  mean  ?  Only  by  wrangling  on  her  own  ? 
Pretty,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Pretty  and  silly,"  said  Violet.  *'  Violently  silly,— it 
takes  her  in  gusts.  Mother  thinks  I  had  better  not  let  you 
see  Felicia,  Charles." 

"  Does  she  say  so  ?  "  Mr.  Shovell  awoke.  "  Give  me  the 
letter." 

"  No,  I  won't."  Reaching  a  swift  hand,  she  pushed  the 
sheet  further  away  before  he  could  touch  it.  "  I  only  wish 
your  mother  were  here,"  she  said,  "  to  help  me  about  this. 


24  DUKE  JONES 

It  looks  to  me  as  if  the  girl  had  really  done  it  this  time, — 
she  has  been  near  the  edge  pretty  often, — but  goodness 
knows.  Cousin  Agnes  is  prejudiced  against  them,  of 
course,  being  religious,  and  it  may  not  be  as  bad  as  it 
sounds." 

Once  more  she  waited,  as  if  to  take  breath,  or  thought : 
her  fingers  pressing  him,  and  more  than  she  knew. 

"  Have  a  cigarette,"  said  Charles  helpfully,  with  an  odd 
glance  at  her  sidelong. 

"No,— don't  tempt  me."  She  bit  her  lip.  "I  am 
strongly  disinclined  to  intervene,  you  know.  After  all, 
both  the  Addenbrokes  are  older  than  I  am.  Felicia  must 
be  twenty-one.  It  is  bound  to  appear  impertinent  to  them, 
I  mean,  however  convenient  to  their  aunt.  And  Honoria 
in  a  real  rage  would  not  be  amusing.  She's  rather  a — a 
rough  diamond,"  said  Violet,  having  paused  for  a  term. 

"  Meaning  a  wild  beast,"  said  Charles  serenely. 
"  What's  the  shindy  about?  " 

"  I  can't  say  exactly,  dear, — it's  confidential.  It  looks 
wild,  and  worse,  if  I  have  got  the  facts  right.  But  what 
with  Cousin  Agnes,  and  Mother,  and  both  their  tempera- 
ments to  reckon  with,  I  am  not  sure  even  of  that." 

Charles  took  her  hands  from  his  brow  of  a  sudden,  rose, 
and  stood  at  his  full  height  above  her. 

"  Don't  intervene,  then,"  he  said  shortly.  "  I  forbid 
you  to." 

"  Do  you  really  ?  "  said  Violet.  The  cloud  slipped  from 
her  brow,  and  a  gleam  of  amusement  appeared.  She 
caught  at  his  coat.  "  Do  you  mean  it,  Charles  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  I  simply  won't  have  it.  What  business 
have  they  to  fag  you? — especially  in  a  nasty  business. 
Confounded  cheek,  all  round,  I  call  it.  It's  my  honeymoon 
as  well  as  yours,  isn't  it  ?  Very  well.  Give  me  that  letter, 
I'll  answer  it." 

"  Oh,  no."  The  girl  took  up  the  sheets  hastily.  "  I  mean, 
— I'm  used  to  her.  Really,  Charles.  Mother's  concise 
expressions — time-saving — are  not  always  agreeable.  She 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  25 

is  vexed,  to  begin  with,  at  having  to  write.  She  can't  bear 
writing,  you  know." 

"  Give  it  here,"  said  Charles.  "  Thanks."  He  put  it  in 
his  pocket.  "  I'll  read  it  or  not  as  I  think  fit.  Anyhow,  it's 
off  your  mind.  You're  to  do  nothing, — >you  can  lay  it  on 
me  if  she  says  anything.  I'll  explain  later  if  necessary, 
when  we  get  back.  Does  Sir  Claude  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  No.  Please  don't  trouble  him.  Mother  will  be  at  him 
quite  soon  enough,  if  I  fail  her.  That  was  one  reason  why 
I — why  I  debated.  I  do  feel  for  Mother,"  said  Violet,  hesi- 
tating. "  In  a  way,  she's  responsible  for  those  girls.  The 
will  made  her  morally  responsible.  I  know  that  from 
Father  himself." 

"  I  hope  she  feels  her  moral  responsibilities  a  bit  more 
than  towards  her  own  daughter,"  thought  Charles  rather 
grimly.  "  If  not,  I  am  sorry  for  the  Addenbrokes." 

He  felt  thoroughly  vicious  towards  the  letter, — he 
thought  he  had  at  last  got  rid  of  Lady  Ashwin.  He  was 
ready  enough  to  admire  her,  in  her  own  place ;  but  she  had 
been  a  little  too  much  in  the  foreground,  in  Mr.  Shovell's 
view,  during  the  period  of  his  engagement,  and  his  civility 
had  been  taxed  to  dispose  of  her  gracefully,  once  or  twice. 
He  particularly  resented  her  invariable  cool  assumption, 
in  life,  concerning  Violet's  services ;  the  more  so,  naturally, 
since  the  date  when  his  own  claim  upon  those  services 
began.  Lady  Ashwin  was  a  woman  who  used  others 
mercilessly,  by  the  simple  means  of  refraining  from  all 
effort  on  her  own  part,  and  letting  her  obligations  slide. 
She  was  doubtless  now  coming  to  realize,  with  surprise 
and  indignation,  the  manifold  uses  of  an  only  daughter; 
having  got  the  daughter  off  her  hands,  to  use  the  popular 
term,  with  the  greatest  dispatch  that  was  decent,  and  with 
the  frankest  indifference  to  her  deserts,  filial  and  other- 
wise :  even  her  claim  to  such  interest  as  a  clever  servant  of 
the  household  might  have  asked :  for  such,  as  a  fact,  Violet 
had  been.  Charles  now  perceived  that  Lady  Ashwin  did 
not  intend  to  slacken  her  grasp  on  those  good  offices, 


26  DUKE  JONES 

however  she  might  underrate  her  daughter's  talents  in 
other  directions;  and  he  cursed  the  intruding  letter  the 
more. 

"  Don't  worry,  darling,"  he  said  gently,  after  some 
moments  of  silence  had  passed.  "  I  can't  bear  it." 

"  Oh,  you  are  nice,"  said  the  girl  under  her  breath,  as 
she  swerved  from  him.  Still  concealing  her  face,  she 
walked  away  towards  the  window,  and  stood  there  for 
some  time,  her  hands  clenched  at  her  side. 

Charles,  after  one  regretful  glance  in  her  wake,  decided 
at  his  leisure  to  let  her  be.  He  abandoned,  also  at  leisure, 
the  idea  of  attempting  to  divert  her  with  his  own  scraps  of 
gossip,  so  carefully  saved  and  sorted.  There  is  a  season 
for  all  things,  thought  Charles;  and  this  was  not  the 
moment  for  Jones'  second  chapter,  thrilling  to  all  right- 
thinking  investigators  though  it  might  be.  He  put  it  off 
until  such  time  as  Violet  should  be  ready  to  play  with  him 
again.  Nor  was  he  obsessed  by  the  desire  to  tease  her  for 
her  confidence,  at  this  stage  of  affairs;  especially  about 
her  own  matters,  the  peculiarly  trying  family  situation 
she  had  had  to  face  almost  from  childhood,  and  managed 
quite  adequately  without  his  aid.  At  least  Charles  judged 
he  could  do  no  further  good  by  interfering  for  the 
present,  and  he  did  not  interfere.  He  took  up  a  small  net 
he  used  for  dredging  on  the  beach,  and  proceeded  to  mend 
it  with  materials  abstracted  from  Violet's  work-basket, 
whistling  contentedly  the  while. 

The  owner  of  the  work-basket  did  not  look  at  him, 
though  she  was  aware  of  his  depredations.  He  was  not 
absent  from  her  consciousness  for  a  moment,  intent  on 
her  latest  problem  as  she  was.  Violet  had  lived  much 
alone,  and  even  this  daily  companionship  was  strange  to 
her  a  little.  She  was  discovering  the  resource  it  offered 
her,  by  degrees.  The  full  expression  of  these  discoveries 
was  reticent,  even  to  herself.  He  was  "  nice,"  Charles, — 
and  he  was  there.  He  made  a  second  in  her  inner  life,  as 
well  as  her  outer,  and  her  swift-weaving  thoughts  occa- 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  27 

sionally  embraced  him,  worked  him  into  the  pattern  of  the 
future  that  was  spreading  before  her,  during  these  quiet 
weeks.  She  had  got  so  far  as  to  accept  him  completely, 
mentally  at  least.  In  life,  audacious  and  mischievous,  dis- 
tracting,— devouring  at  times, — he  was  still  able  to  startle 
her.  Once  or  twice,  during  her  meditations  at  the  window, 
Violet  smiled  suddenly,  thinking  of  Charles,  certain  of  his 
late  proceedings,  and  of  his  latest  one,  in  the  calm  abstrac- 
tion of  her  letter,  It  was  like  him,  the  pleasant  assurance 
of  it, — surprising  her.  Then,  her  mind  recurring  to  the 
letter's  contents,  her  face  turned  serious  again.  The  con- 
tents were  concerned  with  things  and  people  that,  even  in 
these  strangely-illuminated  first  weeks  of  wedlock,  she 
could  not,  should  not,  forget.  It  was  safer  not  to  forget 
them.  The  ocean  her  eyes  were  watching  had  a  melan- 
choly little  note,  for  all  the  wide  glory  of  its  appearance. 
It  was  better  also  in  the  glorious  tide, — the  rising  tide, — of 
life  and  love,  not  to  lose  hold  of  that  underlying  tragedy, 
completely. 

Charles,  urged  in  part  by  the  need  to  try  his  net,  so 
admirably  mended  by  unaided  masculine  contrivance 
behind  Violet's  back,  took  a  solitary  stroll  before  dinner. 
While  he  was  out,  he  made  up  his  mind  on  the  question  of 
conjugal  morality,  and  read  Lady  Ash  win's  short  letter  to 
her  daughter  through.  Violet  risked  that  deliberately 
when  she  gave  it  him,  and  he  took  his  own  risks  in  the 
matter.  The  enclosure,  which  bore  a  black  border,  and 
was  conspicuously  marked  "  private,"  he  avoided ;  for  the 
affairs  of  the  orphan  Addenbrokes  were  certainly  none  of 
his. 

The  note  he  read  gave  Charles  one  of  the  sharpest  shocks 
of  his  life.  He  had  always  charged  his  own  mother's 
style  with  dryness,  if  not  severity ;  but  what  he  held  was 
not  a  mother's  letter  at  all.  There  was  no  sign  in  it  of 
confidence,  or  of  kindness.  The  expressions  were  those  of 
a  cool  equal,  and  hostile  critic.  Rival,  Charles  would  have 
said,  had  his  modesty  ventured  on  the  term.  The  "  dear  " 


28  DUKE  JONES 

at  the  beginning,  the  "  affectionate  "  at  the  end,  seemed 
but  an  additional  insult  to  his  mind,  as  soon  as  he  had 
grasped  the  true  bearing  of  the  rest.  The  sentences  that 
referred  to  himself  made  him  bristle,  though  each  taken 
alone  sounded  inoffensive.  He  could  almost  hear  the 
writer's  deliberate  voice  pronouncing  them. 

"  There  is  no  point  in  Charles'  going,  especially  as  Agnes 
implies  the  girl  is  still  about.  She  is  that  sort  of  girl — up- 
setting— unless  she  has  changed  a  good  deal.  And  if  she 
has  got  her  own  idea,  she  had  better  stick  to  it.  She  will  be 
a  good  riddance  to  Agnes,  anyhow.  ...  So  far  as 
that  goes,  C.  will  be  better  let  alone  now  and  then.  Your 
talk  is  like  your  father's,  comes  from  nerves.  It  sounds 
clever  for  a  time,  but  they  soon  notice  the  difference. 
Once  show  you  are  nervous  about  them,  your  hold  slips. 
It's  never  a  grip  after,  only  clutching.  .  .  .  You  are  not 
given  to  taking  advice,  but  don't  say  later  I  did  not  men- 
tion it." 

"  And  she  lets  me  read  this !  "  he  thought,  with  a  thrill  of 
real  pride.  His  next  thought  to  that  was — '"  But  how  the 
woman  dares ! — a  girl  like  that,  worth  six  of  her !  " 

He  felt  the  virulence  of  jealousy  vaguely,  but  would  not 
admit  it,  for  very  shame.  Another  woman  would  have 
recognized  it  at  once,  for  only  that  passion  can  spur 
a  pen  to  such  wounding  phrases.  It  mattered  little  of  what 
the  jealousy  might  be, — of  youth,  of  happiness,  of  Charles' 
own  free  bearing  and  facile  attractions ;  to  the  truly  sen- 
sual and  self-absorbed  the  commonest  possessions  of 
others  may  inspire  it.  But  Charles,  wrapped  at  this  time 
in  the  study  of  one  woman,  gave  little  thought  to  Eveleen's 
impulses,  beyond  their  immediate  effect  on  Violet. 
Remembering  the  girl's  tone  and  aspect  lately,  her  delib- 
erate concealment  of  her  face  from  him,  and  the  touch,  still 
on  his  temples,  of  her  nervous  hands,  he  did  half  see  how 
far  such  a  mother  as  this  would  be  capable  of  tormenting 
her,  if  she  would,  in  married  life.  For  ten  minutes  at 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  29 

least  after  reading,  it  has  to  be  confessed,  the  sweet- 
tempered  Charles  was  in  a  black  rage.  Finding  a  con- 
venient spot  on  the  quays,  where  he  could  write  in  peace, 
he  composed  and  indited  a  letter  to  Lady  Ashwin,  hardly 
longer  than  her  own,  entirely  for  his  own  consolation  and 
relief.  Then  deliberately,  though  regretfully,  he  tore  it  up, 
and  threw  the  fragments  in  the  sea. 

After  this  little  effort,  he  resumed  his  place  on  the  sea- 
wall, and  wrote  another, — balmy  in  tone,  as  amusing  as  he 
could  make  it,  and  as  flattering  as  he  judged  Lady  Ashwin 
would  stand.  At  the  close  he  mentioned  casually  that  he 
was  not  sure  if  she  realized  how  far  it  was  to  Torquay  by 
rail,  and  that  they  had  no  motor  handy  for  the  moment ; 
but  he  would  take  Violet  over,  if  it  could  be  reasonably 
managed,  before  they  left.  Otherwise,  he  feared  his  wife's 
advice  on  the  case  her  mother  laid  before  her  (Charles 
enjoyed  that  phrase)  must  be  sent  through  the  post. 
Indeed,  that  might  be  the  best  solution.  Violet  had  not 
given  him  the  facts,  so  he  could  not  judge  how  unpleasant 
the  affair  was ;  but  if  it  was  unpleasant,  after  all,  such  an 
unpracticed  girl  could  be  of  little  use.  And  Violet's  mother 
at  least  would  understand,  he  did  not  want,  in  their  short 
holiday,  to  lose  more  minutes  than  he  absolutely  must  of 
her  society. 

He  showed  this  composition  after  dinner  to  Violet,  who 
read  it  biting  her  lip,  called  it  "  quite  beautiful/'  and  then 
coming  back  to  his  side  on  the  hearth, — for  she  had  been 
using  the  last  light  at  the  window  to  read, — inquired  if 
she  might  have  the  honor  of  tearing  it  up.  Charles,  after 
a  little  so-called  argument,  which  on  his  side  was  shame- 
less flirting,  allowed  her  to  do  so :  and  she  scattered  the 
pieces  over  the  fire. 

"  A  great  waste  of  your  precious  time,  isn't  it?  "  she  said 
in  her  soft  mechanical  tone,  as  she  stood  warming  her 
hands  at  the  blaze  they  made ;  for  the  evening  had  turned 
chill  while  Charles  was  out,  and  she  had  had  a  wood  fire  to 


3o  DUKE  JONES 

welcome  his  return.  It  gave  them  a  pleasant  foretaste, 
amusing  in  June,  of  what  the  winter  evenings  together 
would  be.  "  But  a  bit  of  true  art  is  never  wasted,"  she 
added  dreamily.  "  Somebody  says  so, — I  forget  who." 

"  You  don't,"  retorted  Charles.  "  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
tell  lies  about  nothing,  Violet.  I  quote  poetry  myself  now 
and  then,  when  necessary.  It  brightens  up  the  dialogue. 
I  quoted  in  that  letter, — unpracticed  girl  is  Shakespeare,  a 
trifle  adapted.  And  you  can't  deny  it's  on  the  spot." 

"  I  don't  deny  it,"  said  Violet,  looking  down  at  the 
subsiding  flames  with  a  sweet  sobriety  Portia's  self  could 
hardly  have  exceeded. 

"  And  talking  of  art,"  Charles  pursued,  watching  her 
between  his  narrowed  eyelids,  "  you  should  have  seen  the 
other." 

"  The  other?  "    She  half  turned  to  him. 

"  The  other  letter  I  wrote  your  mater  this  afternoon." 

"  Charles,  you  wretch !  "  She  dropped  on  her  knees 
before  him,  clasping  his.  "  You  have  not  sent  one  really  ?  " 

"  No,  my  precious, — take  it  easy.  But  it  was  a  jewel  of 
style.  It  simply  scorched  my  fingers  when  I  tore  it  up. 
It  would  have  been  waste  of  coal  to  burn  it, — so  I  cooled  it 
in  the  sea." 

Still  kneeling,  she  pondered  the  phrases  an  instant, 
looking  down.  There  was  barely  light  enough  for  him  to 
see  her,  for  the  fire  had  died  again,  and  they  had  not 
sought  a  lamp.  The  summer  twilight  and  she  matched 
perfectly, — it  was  in  such  twilight  he  had  seen  her  first, 
three  years  ago,  the  three  that  had  made  their  history. 

"  Were  you  angry?  "  she  said  at  last,  lifting  her  eyes. 

His  encountered  them.  There  ensued  one  of  the  pro- 
longed pauses  between  intimates,  in  which  the  unspeakable 
is  said. 

"  I  am  thinking,"  said  Charles  quietly  at  the  end  of  it, 
"  of  asking  Marmaduke  Jones  to  join  our  walk  to-morrow. 
He's  quite  a  nice  fellow,  and  seems  lonely ; — unless  you 
object,  my  dear." 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  31 

It  may  amuse  those  who  are  not  lovers  to  supply, — for 
the  benefit  of  those  who  never  even  wanted  to  be, — the 
intervening  steps  between  the  final  question  and  answer  in 
this  carefully-noted  dialogue. 

IV 

Marmaduke,  as  a  fact,  was  Jones'  name.  Charles 
supplied  the  fact,  with  various  other  facts  and  ornamental 
surmises,  to  Violet,  the  next  morning,  before  they  took 
their  walk.  He  detained  her  to  discuss  it,  with  difficulty, 
for  she  was  on  springs  to  be  up  and  about  the  world.  It 
was  a  glorious  morning,  seeming  to  promise  a  spell  of 
settled  weather,  and  everybody  was  stirring  in  the  little 
town.  It  was  as  well,  Charles  explained,  with  that  weighty 
solemnity  which  always  implied  an  agreement  of  nonsense 
between  them,  for  his  wife  to  be  posted  in  advance,  in  case 
they  encountered  E.  M.  Jones  upon  the  beach.  The  name 
was  undoubtedly  Marmaduke,  and  he  was  so  little  ashamed 
of  it  that  he  had  it  printed  on  his  card.  Charles  thought  it 
probable  that  Jones'  sister,  if  he  had  one,  shortened  it. 
He  was  anxious  to  know  what  the  name  of  Marmaduke, 
apart  from  all  other  less  important  considerations,  sug- 
gested to  Violet. 

"  It's  rather  sweet,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell,  who  was  looking 
extraordinarily  young  and  pretty,  and  was  rather  erratic 
in  dialogue.  "  Lavender  and  things, — not  poudre  precisely, 
but  curls  and  hoops.  He  must  have  a  nice  mother." 

He  might  have  had,  Charles  explained,  but  she  no  longer 
existed.  Jones'  father  was  also  defunct.  He  was  that 
pathetic  thing,  an  orphan.  Charles  was  sure,  at  least, 
Violet  perceived  Jones'  pathetic  side.  He  was  the  kind  of 
man  who  walked  lonely  amid  crowds. 

"  Then  he  cannot  be  the  man  in  the  street,"  said  Violet. 
"  Be  reasonable,  Charles.  The  man  in  the  street  is 
certainly  gregarious, — no,  that's  only  four  syllables,  and  it 
is  exactly  what  I  mean.  You  must  give  up  one  theory  or 
the  other." 


32  DUKE  JONES 

Charles,  on  consideration,  preferred  to  keep  the  pathos. 
The  pathos  was  evident,  indeed,  since  Jones,  for  instance, 
knew  no  one  in  this  hotel. 

"  I  heard  him  say  good  morning  six  times,"  said  Violet, 
"  when  he  went  out  early  to  bathe.  I  counted  as  I  lay  in 
bed.  Everybody  bathed  this  morning  except  you." 

"  That  does  not  prove  that  he's  popular, — merely  polite," 
reasoned  Charles.  "  Marmaduke  is  polite.  He  told  me 
nearly  half  the  things  I  tried  to  find  out  without  apparent 
resentment.  After  the  first  few  minutes,  Jones  goes  in 
harness  steadily.  I  shall  learn  to  manage  him  in  time.  The 
man's  a  mystery,"  mused  Charles. 

"  No,"  said  Violet,  with  a  shake  of  head,  "  I  assure  you 
that  theory  is  exploded  too.  Jones  is  not  after  my  pearls. 
He  has  stopped  being  a  mystery,  and  become  a  dear.  I 
found  out  he  was  a  dear,  before  you  came  in,  yesterday 
afternoon." 

"Did  you?"  Charles  pondered,  eyeing  her.  "  Well,  it 
may  all  fit  in.  At  this  point,  V.,  you  take  a  seat,  and  ask 
me  for  my  narrative." 

"Mayn't  I  walk  about?"  said  Violet.  "All  right." 
She  sat  down,  and  leant  back. 

"  You  must  listen,  you  know,"  said  Charles  suspiciously. 
"  It's  not  the  thing  to  shut  your  eyes.  Yes,  do,  darling,  if 
you're  tired." 

"  I  am  not  tired,  only  patient,"  explained  Violet.  "  It's 
a  delicious  day." 

"  You  needn't  be  patient  long,"  said  Charles.  "  Only 
just  wait  till  I  spring  a  bomb  on  you, — a  mine,  I  mean. 
Jones  is  a  University  man." 

"  Oh,  surely  not ! "  said  Violet,  her  gray  eyes  open- 
ing wide. 

"  I  thought  it  would  move  you.  Now  say  he's  not  a 
mystery.  Jones  was  a  Tosher." 

"A  what?" 

"  Oho !  Who  lightly  calls  herself  Oxford,  and  attempts 
to  bandy  words  with  fellows  from  the  other  shop  ?  Even  / 


33 

know  what  a  Tosher  is.  Tosher  is  Oxford  dialect  for 
'  unattached.' " 

"  Unattached,"  repeated  Violet,  considering  it.  "  Well, 
yes ;  that  is  rather  pathetic,  certainly." 

"  Don't  find  pathos  in  the  wrong  places,"  advised 
Charles.  "  I  can't  bear  sentimentality.  '  Unattached  ' 
means  no  more  than  that  Jones  was  a  free  lance  in  his 
studies,  and  belonged  to  no  official  college.  It  also  implies 
that,  at  the  time,  funds  were  low.  It  makes  a  faint  reflec- 
tion on  his  religious  opinions,  but  nothing  serious.  Jones 
remains,  in  spite  of  all,  respectable.  I  have  often  thought 
of  lecturing  on  life  in  Oxford,"  said  Charles,  "  the  people 
who  lay  claim  to  that  old  place  seem  to  know  so  little 
about  it." 

"  Well,  we  were  attached,"  said  Violet.  "  And  what's 
more,  you  must  be  wrong  about  religious  opinions,  because 
ours  were  awful.  And  what's  more  than  that,  we  raked  in 
University  prizes,  and  took  a  First  Class  at  an  age  when 
most  men  go  up.  We  then  proceeded  to  the  business  of 
life  in  Paris,  to  the  indignation  of  our  classical  professors, 
who  never  forgave  us.  I  know  because  I  have  talked  to 
one  at  dinner.  Have  you  ever  seen  Father's  medals, 
Charles  ?  Do  remind  me  to  show  you  some  time, — it's  too 
silly." 

Charles  waited  for  her,  his  withering  eyes  resting  upon 
her  countenance.  It  held  a  light  which  Jones,  at  least  at 
present,  could  not  evoke.  It  was  useless  to  try  to  stop  her, 
when  launched  at  this  speed,  so  he  waited,  wearily. 

"  Quite  done  ?  "    he  said  in  the  pause. 

"  Yes ;  go  on  narrating,  dear.  What  did  Mr.  Jones 
read?" 

"  I  have  no  idea,"  said  Charles.  "  What  a  thoroughly 
stupid  question,  excuse  me,- Violet.  It  puts  me  out.  As  if 
a  man's  subject  matters!  You'll  be  talking  to  Jones 
himself  about  it  next.  The  question  is,  what  a  man  adds 
to  the  experience  of  life.  I  learnt  a  great  deal  myself,  and 
so  did  Jones.  We  shook  our  heads  over  it,  yesterday. 


34  DUKE  JONES 

Parcel  of  young  blackguards  we  were,  my  faith!    Well, 
what  are  you  shaking  yours  about  ?  " 

"  He  was  never  a  blackguard,"  said  Violet.  "  He  has 
not  the  physique,  or  the  nerve  for  it.  He  could  not  take  a 
policeman's  helmet  if  he  tried.  He  worked  peaceably  at 
whatever  it  was,  in  well-recommended  rooms  looking 
over  the  High — no,  the  Turl,  since  funds  were  low  at  the 
time.  How  delightful  and  spirited  of  Mrs.  Jones  to  send 
him  to  Oxford !  I  am  sure  his  excellent  father,  in  an  old- 
fashioned  country  business,  disapproved." 

Mr.  Shovell  was  waiting  perforce  again,  but  this  time 
not  in  scorn ;  rather  ruffled  on  the  contrary. 

"  How  do  you  know  all  that?  "  he  demanded.  "  Were 
you  fishing  yesterday  too  ?  " 

"  Surmise,"  said  Violet  lightly.    "  What  are  the  facts  ?  " 

"  His  father  managed  a  small  bank  in  a  provincial  town 
in  Wales.  He  wanted  Marmaduke  to  succeed  him,  but  his 
mother  thought  Marmie  was  fit  for  better  things.  Duke 
was  an  exceptionally  good  boy " 

"Theology!"  cried  Violet.  "That's  what  he  read, 
then." 

"  No,  he  did  not,"  said  Charles.  "  I  implied  clearly  that 
at  least  one  of  the  parents  was  unorthodox,  if  you  had 
listened.  You  go  off  with  ideas " 

"  Well,  I  merely  imply  that  Jones  has  an  open  mind.  I 
think  that  highly  probable.  He  would  read  theology  to  see 
which  of  his  parents  was  right." 

"  Disgusting,"  said  Charles.  "  Whatever  he  isn't,  Jones 
is  a  dutiful  son.  Dutifulness,  as  a  general  virtue,  simply 
trickles  from  him." 

"  Well,  I  did  not  imply  he  was  undutif ul ;  merely  open- 
minded." 

"  What's  the  difference?  "  said  Charles.  "A  jolly  time 
you  must  have  given  your  parents,  V.,  if  that's  your  idea 
of  duty.  Unquestioning  obedience  was  Jones'  line " 

"  To  which  parent?  "  said  Violet. 

"  Both !     Alternately !     Now  will  you  let  me  speak  ? 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  35 

Where  the  money  came  from,  and  how  much  there  is,  is 
one  of  the  things  I  have  yet  to  discover.  But  it  is  certainly 
there.  Shall  we  keep  that  before  us  as  our  object  of 
investigation  for  the  day  ?  " 

"  Do  as  you  like,"  said  Violet,  "  but  don't  drag  me  in.  / 
shall  talk  to  Mr.  Jones  about  the  weather." 

And  so  she  did. 

When  unsuspecting  Jones  espied  the  couple,  and 
removed  his  hat,  she  accosted  him  so  sweetly  on  this 
subject,  that  he  was  lured  at  once  to  follow  them.  Having 
thus  attached  him,  she  enlarged  upon  the  weather  at  her 
ease.  Jones  talked  about  it  too ;  it  would  have  seemed  to 
be  his  favorite  study.  Charles  attended  to  Violet's  femi- 
nine efforts  with  contempt,  and  putted  a  pebble  along  the 
beach  with  his  stick  the  while,  for  miles:  or  at  least  it 
seemed  miles  to  Charles,  who  concentrated  most  of  his 
magnificent  mind  on  the  effort  of  sticking  to  one  stone, — 
and  effort  was  required,  since  there  were  millions  to 
choose  from.  As  he  set  the  course  for  the  party,  and  the 
course  followed  the  stone,  it  was  naturally  a  rather  irregu- 
lar progression ;  but  all  parties  seemed  to  be  enjoying  it 
greatly,  at  least  at  first.  Whenever  Charles  gave  the  other 
two  his  attention,  they  were  still  upon  the  weather,  or  at 
least  some  subject  closely  akin.  Mrs.  Shovell,  in  an 
exclamatory  and  idle  mood,  remarked  on  her  surround- 
ings, and  got  no  further  at  all.  Charles  grew  rather 
ashamed  of  Violet,  who  was  showing  herself  so  common- 
place in  Jones'  eyes.  She  was  really  father  a  clever  girl, 
or  had  been  supposed  to  be  when  Charles  married  her. 
Her  husband  could  generally  trust  her  to  sustain  his  credit 
for  wit  in  mixed  company ;  and  when  mixing  with  Jones, 
for  all  the  poor  fellow's  natural  unfitness  to  support  her, 
he  had  thought  she  might  do  better  than  this. 

"  Pretty  clouds,"  said  Violet,  waiting  for  Charles,  who 
had  lost  his  stone.  "  But  they  look  like  wind.  Another 
windy  night — how  hateful.  I  never  mind  the  sea  talking 


36  DUKE  JONES 

all  alone  in  the  night,  do  you? — Look  at  that  sea-gull 
balancing, — isn't  he  showing  off?  I  want  to  duck  him 
under  when  he  does  that, — just  for  a  lesson,  once.  But  I 
dare  say  he'd  only  laugh  and  shake  his  wings.  .  .  . 
Don't  you  simply  ache  to  travel,  Mr.  Jones?  " 

That  was  a  trifle  better,  thought  Charles,  though  she 
might  have  led  up  to  it  more  dexterously.  Anything  so 
amateurish  he  never  heard.  He  found  his  stone,  or  one 
exactly  like  it,  and  drove  it  splendidly,  and  almost  straight 
ahead.  This  pleased  him,  and,  shouldering  his  stick,  he 
turned  towards  the  others. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  Paris,"  said  Jones,  in  his  uninteresting 
voice. 

"  How  nice,"  said  Violet.  "  Soon  ? — Are  we  to  come 
on,  dear  ?  Very  well." 

"  I  hope  to  go  soon.    I  have  always  wanted  to." 

"  I  have  places  like  that  too,"  said  Violet.  "  I  used  to 
hug  them.  But  in  the  case  of  most  of  mine,  I  don't  suppose 
I  ever  shall — now,"  she  appended  dreamily,  gazing  at  the 
sea. 

Charles,  overhearing,  thought  she  might  manage  to  keep 
Jones  going,  even  in  her  futile  feminine  way,  without 
administering  backhanders  by  the  way  to  him.  It  was  not 
his  fault  if  he  had  deranged  her  maiden  dreams  of  explora- 
tion by  marrying  her.  It  was  her  fault  for  entertaining 
such  unwomanly  ambitions.  He  opened  his  mouth,  as 
they  came  alongside,  to  make  a  satirical  comment.  But  his 
mouth  remained  open ;  for  Jones  said — "  I  never  thought  / 
should.  I've  no  notion  of  those  cheap  tours,  thanks. 
That's  what  I  always  said  to  myself,  you  know.  Sooner 
nothing  at  all  than  that.  But  now " 

His  tone  was  lower  than  Charles  had  heard  it,  and 
caught  at  the  end  by  a  kind  of  gulp.  His  head  was  hanging 
down,  and  he  trailed  his  stick, — a  far  from  heroic  attitude. 

"  But  now  you  can,"  said  Violet,  her  own  tone  soft  in 
sympathy.  "  Yes,  that's  the  best  of  it,  when  really  exqui- 
site things  take  you  by  surprise.  We  ruin  our  experience 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  37 

by  foresight,  don't  we?  Absolutely  ruin  it.  Women  are 
worse  than  men."  She  withdrew  her  gray  eyes  from  the 
horizon,  and  they  looked  at  Marmaduke  kindly,  for  all  the 
haze  that  still  lingered.  "When  are  you  going?"  she 
asked.  "  October's  the  best  month.  Wait  till  a  fortnight 
before — about  the  twentieth,  and  then  send  a  card  to 
Cook's." 

"  I'd  thought  of  doing  that,"  said  Jones  eagerly.  "  I'd — 
I'd  like  to  do  it  in  style,  you  know :  no  nonsense." 

"  That's  right,"  Violet  encouraged  him.  "  Oh,  don't  I 
wish  I  were  you!  Paris  for  the  first  time, — delicious! 
And  alone!" 

When  she  had  quite  done  insulting  him,  Charles  thought, 
he  would  make  a  really  biting  remark,  and  startle  her. 
He  prepared  one,  putting  his  stone  viciously.  But,  un- 
luckily, he  hit  the  wrong  one, — more  than  half  imbedded, 
— hurt  his  hand,  and  cracked  his  stick. 

"  Charles! "  said  Violet.  "  In  your  wife's  presence, — is 
that  Cambridge  form  ?  I  shall  take  the  stones  away  from 
you,  if  you  can't  play  nicely. — You  do  propose  to  go 
alone  ?  "  She  turned  to  Jones. 

He  nodded.  "  Part  of  the  fun.  I'd  find  out  alone,  any- 
how. Later  on,  of  course,  you  might  take  somebody." 

"  I  see  you  have  worked  it  out,"  said  Violet.  "  I  shall 
not  advise  you  at  all, — a  word  would  shatter  it.  I  am 
afraid  your  sea-gull  is  greedy,  Mr.  Jones.  His  intentions 
are  not  so  graceful  as  they  seem.  Look  at  them  squabbling, 
— oh ! — Will  you  write  your  adventures  down  ?  " 

"  Oh,  just  notes,"  said  Jones  awkwardly.  "  Not  a  whole 
jawing  journal.  I  hate  that  rot." 

"Don't!"  cried  Mrs.  Shovell.  "That's  what  I  did. 
Never  mind.  It  was  unmitigated  gush, — what  Charles 
calls  gas, — unfit  for  human  eyes  the  days  I  really  enjoyed 
myself.  We  had  lovely  weather,  I  remember, — rather 
like  this." 

Did  she  intend  to  hark  back  to  that  again,  thought 
Charles.  She  was  really  hopeless  this  morning.  He  would 


38  DUKE  JONES 

have  to  take  his  narrative  in  hand  himself  before  long  if 
she  did  not  get  on  faster. 

"  But  you  weren't  alone  there  ?  "  suggested  Marmaduke, 
rather  grave. 

"  Would  that  I  had  been ! — no.  I  lost  myself  twice, 
though, — quite  successfully.  But  Father  always  found 
me  again  too  soon.  That's  the  worst  of  him.  ...  I  was 
eleven,"  she  added,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  Did  he  smack  you  ?  "  said  Charles,  who  was  cross.  He 
had  to  walk  with  them  now,  and  Jones  did  not  offer  to  lend 
his  stick.  He  did  not  appear  to  think  of  Charles'  needs 
at  all. 

"  No,  dear ;  Father  was  too  modern,  even  then.  He  only 
looked  thoroughly  tired  of  me,  and  tipped  the  policemen. 
I  shouldn't  wonder,  thinking  it  over  now,  if  Father  had 
cherished  sweet  dreams  of  being  alone  in  Paris, — that 
time.  He  would  have  agreed  with  Mr.  Jones.  I  am  certain 
you  are  right  about  it,"  she  addressed  him  suddenly.  "  It 
is  the  only  way, — strange  though  it  may  feel  at  first." 

"  It'll  be  queer,"  Jones  admitted.  "  Going  off  on  the 
spree  like  that, — especially  now.  I'm  not  half  sure  she'd 
have  liked  it." 

"  Your  mother?  "  said  Violet. 

"  Father's  sister, — her  that  left  me  the  money.  She  was 
a  bit  stiff  in  her  ideas." 

"  You  are  not  to  have  moral  scruples,"  said  Violet,  with 
sudden  intensity.  "  I  can't  bear  it.  Follow  your  star,  Mr. 
Jones.  Plunge  smiling.  Sin,  if  you  really  must,  with  a 
good  grace.  Courage,  camarades,  le  diable  est  mort.  Et 
tout  ce  qui  s'ensuit,"  she  concluded. 

"  Who's  swearing  now?  "  demanded  Charles.  "  You're 
shocking  Mr.  Jones, — no  wonder !  " 

"  Will  you  say  it  again  ?  "  said  Jones  rather  eagerly. 

"  No."  She  laughed.  "  Better  not.  Don't  you  talk 
French?" 

"  Oh,  not  to  call  talking''  He  looked  dubious.  "  I 
suppose  one'd  write  in  French  for  the  rooms  ?  " 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  39 

"  Father  did,"  said  Violet  thoughtfully.  "  They  like  it 
better,  naturally ;  but  there's  no  need." 

"  Oh,  I  can  write,"  said  Jones,  "  if  it  comes  to  that. 
Better  to  do  the  thing  in  style.  I'm  not  up  to  speaking 
much  yet,  but  I  can  write." 

"  Dear,  I'm  tired,"  said  Violet,  suddenly  clasping 
Charles'  arm.  "  I  can't  get  as  far  as  the  point  to-day.  I 
think  I  shall  wait  for  you  here." 

Without  pausing  for  permission,  she  sat  down  on  a 
nice  rock,  where  there  was  exactly  room  for  two,  looking 
piteous.  Charles'  blue  eyes  shot  lightnings  at  her,  quite 
uselessly.  Violet  could  appear  exhausted  at  any  moment, 
whether  she  were  so  or  not,  and  now  she  did.  She  drooped 
on  her  rock,  a  charming  and  pathetic  little  object.  Her 
charms  to-day  gave  Charles  shocks  continually,  though  he 
sought  to  make  headway  against  such  an  obviously  unfair 
advantage. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  go  home,"  he  said  omi- 
nously. "  Jones  and  I " 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Violet.  "  The  rocks  are  so  slippery. 
And  I  have  not  got  tennis-shoes." 

No  more,  it  may  be  mentioned,  had  Mr.  Jones.  While 
Charles  preserved  a  dignified  silence,  Jones  stood  where  he 
was,  close  at  Mrs.  Shovell's  side  while  she  was  speaking, 
and  glancing  anxiously  up  and  down  the  empty  spaces  of 
the  shore.  Then  he  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Short  of  time?  "  Charles  suggested.  "  Perhaps  after 
all,  then,  we  had  better  all  go  back.  We've  come  farther 
than  I  thought,  and  it's  slow  going  on  this " 

Jones  interrupted,  and  interruption,  of  whatever  nature, 
in  that  quarter  was  so  remarkable  that,  for  all  his  quiet 
voice  in  speaking,  Charles  stopped  short. 

"  I  could  go  back,"  he  said,  addressing  Charles,  "  and 
bring  my  car  as  far  as  the  turn  up  there, — if  you  could  get 
her  up  the  path." 

"  A  car! "  ejaculated  the  youth.    "  Have  you  got  one?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  at  the  hotel.    I  haven't  used  it  since  I  came.    I 


40  DUKE  JONES 

thought  perhaps "  He  looked  at  Violet  on  the  rock. 

"  I  never  heard  anything  so  kind,"  she  cried  with 
emphasis.  "  Did  you,  Charles  ?  But  I  couldn't,  you  know, 
possibly." 

"  Couldn't  get  up  the  path  ?  "  said  Charles.  His  sar- 
casm was  profound. 

"  Couldn't  be  such  a  nuisance.  Couldn't  ever  respect 
myself  again.  My  husband  is  ashamed  of  me  as  it  is.  Go 
on  with  him,  dear,  do  you  mind  ?  I  shall  rest,  and  wander 
home." 

This  right-about-face  in  strategy,  as  he  regarded  it,  so 
flabbergasted  Charles,  that,  before  he  knew  it,  he  had 
obeyed  her  directions,  and  was  walking  on  with  their  new 
acquaintance  along  the  shore. 

"  She  doesn't  look  strong,"  ventured  Marmaduke  Jones 
presently,  when  the  pair  had  left  the  rock  behind.  He 
spoke  very  modestly  indeed,  and  certainly,  Mr.  Shovell 
appeared  sulky.  The  fact  was,  a  horrid  doubt  had 
attacked  Charles'  mind,  on  abandoning  Violet,  that  she 
had  not  been  acting,  and  was  really  tired — or  worse.  The 
Ashwins  acted  so  well,  whichever  way  round  it  chanced 
to  be,  that  there  was  no  being  certain  of  the  fact,  which- 
ever it  was.  They  were  exasperating  people. 

"  She  isn't  awfully,"  he  replied  shortly.  "  Nothing 
wrong  with  her,  though." 

"  Her  father's  a  big  doctor,  isn't  he  ?  "  said  Jones. 

"  Er — yes,"  said  Charles.  He  was  almost  incapable  of 
speech.  Did  he  hear  aright  ?  Had  this  Jones,  on  whom 
they  had  spent  so  much  tireless  curiosity,  been  retaliating 
upon  them, — spying  too?  Incredibly  audacious  Jones! 
He  waited,  breathless,  for  developments. 

"  It  doesn't  always  help  much,"  murmured  Jones,  turn- 
ing over  the  medical  question. 

"  Apt  to  be  slack  with  their  own  broods,  you  mean," 
said  Charles,  quite  mechanically.  "  I  say — do  you  mind 
my  asking — how  you  know  ?  " 

"  Ashwin  ?   Heard  the  name,"  Jones  enlightened  him. 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  41 

"  He's  one  of  the  johnnies  who  boss  my  show :  patronage 
committee, — but  he  does  more  than  patronize.  I'm  secre- 
tary for  them  this  year, — they  seemed  to  want  somebody, 
so  I  wrote.  I'm  out  of  a  job,  you  see, — glad  enough  to 
do  anything  where  it's  any  use.  They  were  glad  enough 
to  have  me  as  it  happened.  Those  voluntary-aided  affairs 
go  up  and  down,  and  they  can't  give  much  salary.  Not 
that  I  want  any,"  he  added  shyly,  "  but  I  took  it  for  the 
form." 

"Charity?"  said  Charles,  with  the  vagueness  of  his 
kind.  He  received  an  explanation,  which  left  him  little 
the  wiser.  Jones'  "  show  "  appeared  to  be  one  of  the  innu- 
merable movements  for  the  relief  of  certain  of  the 
more  obscure,  offensive  evils  of  our  vast  community, 
constantly  launched  like  waves  by  the  vigorous  impulsion 
of  a  few  determined  minds,  to  sink  again  when  the  public 
flow  of  interest  in  a  sensational  novelty  has  subsided. 
Jones  had  volunteered  in  the  ebbing  period,  he  gathered, 
and  continued  to  strive  against  odds  for  the  welfare  of 
his  cause.  It  was  the  kind  of  thing  rich,  piously-nurtured, 
insignificant  Joneses  did. 

"  But  I  don't  quite  see,"  said  Charles,  recurring  to  his 
most  artless  vein,  "  how  it  helps;  to  know  my  wife  was 
Ashwin's  daughter,  I  mean.  She  has  changed  her  name." 

"  Oh,  that,"  said  Jones.  "  You  couldn't  know,  of 
course.  They  are  all  on  to  that  since  yesterday.  That 
cross-faced  girl — Purvis — found  the  notice  in  one  of  the 
picture  papers.  They've  stacks  of  'em,  always  turning  'em 
over,  in  the  reading-room.  If  I'd  thought  you  minded, 
I'd  have  carried  it  off." 

"  Notice?    Of  the  wedding,  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Yes.  Only  a  little  bit  about  it,  but  enough.  Enough 
for  me,  I  mean.  Ash  win,  and  Claude, — not  likely  there 
should  be  two.  They've  been  hunting  for  days,"  said 
Jones  indifferently. 

"  Confounded  cheek,"  said  the  bridegroom.  '4  None  of 
their  business,  anyhow." 


42  DUKE  JONES 

"  Nothing  much  else  to  do,"  said  Jones  tolerantly. 
"  Those  girls." 

"  Precious  civil  of  you  to  call  them  girls,"  observed 
Charles.  "  Hardly  in  their  first  bloom,  are  they  ?  " 

"  Oh  well,"  said  Jones.  "  They're  not  ladies.  What 
are  you  to  say  ?  " 

Since  Charles  laughed,  he  looked  at  him.  He  was  a 
diffident  fellow,  this  Jones,  but  not  ill-looking.  His 
ordinary  eyes  showed  a  glint  of  jocularity,  as  though  to 
answer  Charles,  though  they  protested  at  his  laughter 
too. 

"  Anyone  knows  a  lady  when  they  see  one,"  he  per- 
sisted. "  Any  fool.  Those  girls  aren't ; — too  noisy  by 
half.  What's  a  fellow  to  say?  Come  now."  Stopping, 
he  challenged  his  companion. 

"  It  depends  on  whether  a  fellow  expects  to  be  over- 
heard," said  Charles. 

"  That's  good,"  said  Jones  instantly.  "  But  they  always 
hear.  They  hear  everything  that's  going,  and  repeat  it." 

"  Call  them  pitchers,  then,"  said  Charles  frivolously. 
"  Or  parrots." 

"  Oh  yes, — only  you  don't  like  to  call  names.  There  are 
lots  of  them,  all  over  the  shop,  that  sort."  Jones,  having 
swept  the  horizon,  as  though  reviewing  endless  ranks  of 
mature  girls  that  no  fellow  could  call  ladies,  turned  round. 
"  I  say, — she's  gone,"  he  remarked  irrelevantly. 

It  was  a  fact  that  the  wide  bay,  with  its  sweep  of  sand, 
and  its  rock  in  the  middle  distance,  were  alike  innocent  of 
Violet.  Near  or  far,  she  was  not  seen.  She  must  have 
adopted  the  cliff  path,  and  almost  immediately  after  their 
departure.  Her  elvish  caprices  baffled  the  wit  of  sober 
man  to  follow,  and  sober  man,  in  the  person  of  her 
husband,  gave  up  the  effort.  Having  searched  the  land- 
scape for  her  in  vain,  its  total  emptiness  inspired  Violet's 
husband  to  a  bright  idea,  and,  swinging  about,  he  proposed 
to  Marmaduke  Jones  to  bathe. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  said  Charles,  when,  greatly  restored 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  43 

in  temper  and  spirits  by  a  lengthy  swim,  he  reached  home 
in  his  turn,  "  I  don't  like  these  games.  You  don't  play 
fair." 

"  I  don't  want  to  play,"  said  Violet,  whom  he  found  in 
the  depths  of  her  bedroom,  at  bay,  as  it  were,  upon  the 
window-seat,  looking  desperate,  not  to  say  guilty.  "  I 
told  you  so.  I  don't  really  care  for  the  game." 

This  was  becoming  serious.  Charles  took  a  seat  on 
the  bed,  facing  her.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're 
tired  of  Jones,"  he  said  reproachfully.  "  You  can't  be." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  she  reassured  him.  "  Not  a  scrap  at 
present.  It  isn't  that.  It  isn't  that  I  mind  playing  in  the 
abstract, — I  love  it.  It  was  lovely  when  he  was  down- 
stairs, and  on  the  balcony,  and  second-hand  through  your 
mind, — which  never  spoils  things,  Charles,  on  the  way. 
Lovely  investigating,  I  mean.  But  walking  all  together 
in  that  friendly  way,  with  those  exquisite  shades  across 
the  sand,  and  the  sea-gulls  toppling  on  the  little  waves, — 
too  unbearably  white  against  the  blue, — it's  different.  The 
point  of  view  is  different.  It's  my  silly  mind." 

"  I  never  knew  such  a  girl,"  said  Charles.  "  Wherever 
will  you  get  to  next?  Go  on."  He  watched  her,  with 
admiration  not  unmingled  with  suspicion. 

"  I  can't,"  said  Violet,  swerving  yet  more  from  his  eyes. 
"  It's  perfectly  useless  explaining,  unless  you  see.  Have 
you  really  never  noticed  how  drivelling  I  turn  on  days 
when  there's  lots  of  color  about?  I  ought  to  have  warned 
you, — they're  used  to  it  at  home.  It  goes  to  my  head,  I 
can't  help  it.  To-day  it  was  worse  than  usual.  I  don't 
know  why."  She  bit  her  lip.  "  I  have  not  the  least  idea, 
really,  what  I  talked  about  to  Mr.  Jones.  I  thought  if  it 
got  too  senseless,  you'd  step  in.  But  you  only  played  with 
the  stones,  so  I  had  to." 

"  Do  you  mean  it?  "  said  Charles.    "  Word  of  honor?  " 

"  Word  of  honor,  dear.  He  was  nice  about  Paris, 
wasn't  he  ?  "  She  swept  her  brow  with  her  hand.  "  I'll 
try  and  make  it  up  to  him  to-night." 


44  DUKE  JONES 

"  Well,"  said  Charles,  with  deliberation,  after  a  pause, 
"  if  you  mean  you  were  really  drunk,  it  was  not  a  bad 
show,  considering." 

"  Drunk, — yes,  I  was.  How  clever  of  you !  I'm  sdll 
feeling  it." 

"Was  that  why  you  sat  down?"  said  suspicious 
Charles. 

"  Yes,  probably.  Because  of  that.  It's  a  great  pity  for 
you,"  said  Violet  with  fervor,  "  you  have  married  such  a 
fool." 

"  Perhaps  that's  really  why  you  put  me  off  so  long," 
said  Charles.  "  Oh  well,  I'll  make  a  note  of  it.  We'll  try 
to  struggle  on.  We're  in  for  a  week  of  this  weather,  that's 
the  worst."  His  blue  eyes  rested  on  the  sky  without  the 
window,  more  blue  than  they.  "  What  do  you  want  me  to 
think  of  you  trying  to  keep  Marmaduke,  and  sending  me 
on  alone  ?  " 

"  I  thought  he  would  rather,  perhaps.  He  seemed  to  be 
happy  talking.  Oh  dear, — were  you  jealous  of  that? 
Didn't  you  mean  me  to  talk  to  him?  You  said  he  was 
lonely, — I  was  trying  to  be  nice." 

Charles  answered  nothing.  She  was  really  quite  beyond 
him  for  the  moment,  though  more  charming  every  instant 
as  she  grew  more  distracted,  more  evidently  shy  of  him, 
and  frightened  of  herself.  He  was  still  desperately 
jealous  of  something,  whatever  this  spirit  was  that  had 
clutched  her, — but  it  was  not  of  Jones.  He  was  pretty 
sure  it  was  not  Jones.  Violet's  head  was  in  her  hands,  her 
dark  hair  dropping  across  her  fingers  in  mossy  streaks. 
Her  delicate  fingers  were  slightly  embrowned  by  the  sun, 
the  last  joint  whitened  where  they  pressed  against  her 
brow.  He  noted  such  details,  being  so  very  near,  while 
he  whistled  soundlessly,  considering  in  all  quarters  of  his 
masculine  mind,  her  case. 

"  You  are  an  extraordinary  girl,  V.,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  It's  certainly  risky  letting  respectable  young  fellows  like 
that  take  walks  with  you." 


THE  MOON  OF  DISCOVERY  45 

"  Why  risky  ?  He's  nice, — I  really  like  him.  He  is  far 
the  nicest  person  in  the  hotel,  I  am  sure.  I  think  his  fixed 
idea  to  conquer  Paris,  without  the  cheapening  effect  of  his 
fellow-creatures,  is  charming.  Most  characteristic  prob- 
ably,— I'm  sure  it  fits  in  somewhere.  To  the  narrative,  I 
mean.  Won't  you  go  away  and  fit  it  in  for  me,  among  the 
other  things?  I  make  you  a  present  of  it  willingly.  If  it 
should  supply  a  blank,  our  walk  will  not  be  wasted." 

"  You  want  me  to  go  away  ?  "  said  Charles.  His  pained 
astonishment  rose  by  leaps  and  bounds,  as  it  became 
evident  that  she  wanted  it.  Pain  showed  in  his  eyes  as 
he  sat,  gazing  at  Violet,  upon  the  bed.  Then,  though  her 
face  was  still  hidden  from  him,  light  arrived. 

"  Are  you  happy,  darling  ?  "  he  said  suddenly. 

"  Yes.  Frightfully !  That's  what's  the  matter  with  me, 
really.  I  am  glad  you  have  found  it  out.  I  am  not — used 
to  it."  She  just  got  the  last  words  out,  with  a  strong  effort, 
though  they  were  barely  heard. 

Charles  sat  a  little  longer,  thinking  things  out.  They 
came  clearer.  Presently  they  became  quite  clear,  and  he 
rose  and  departed  quietly,  since  she  wished  to  be  alone. 
He  walked  into  their  sea-front  sitting-room,  where  lunch 
was  spread ;  and  from  the  window  where  he  stood,  in  the 
new  light  that  seemed  to  have  altered  the  light  of  day, 
saw  Marmaduke  Jones'  back.  He  was  standing  as  usual 
on  his  balcony,  looking  abroad  at  land  and  sea, — as  usual, 
alone.  Charles  felt  sorry  for  Jones,  still  suffering  doubt- 
less from  the  effects  of  his  late  walk  with  a  drunken  lady. 
(She  certainly  remained  a  lady,  even  when  drunk,  the 
comical  fellow  was  right.)  Charles  was  quite  sorry  for 
Jones.  And  if  any  would-be  sympathizer  with  the  woes  of 
humankind  supposes  that  state  of  mind  to  be  depressing  in 
a  bridegroom,  or  needing  to  be  compassionated,  they  must 
submit  to  instant  disillusion  at  the  hands  of  his  biographer. 
For  the  broad  effect  of  his  deep  sympathy  for  a  fellow- 
creature  on  Charles'  spirit,  was  that  of  a  nameless,  soaring, 
really  insufferable  content. 


46  DUKE  JONES 

II 

LISETTE 


AFTER  that,  for  a  period,  indeed  until  quite  the  end  of  the 
Shovells'  stated  holiday,  there  was  little  to  record.  When 
the  barometer  stands  at  "  set  fair,"  without  and  within, 
for  body  and  spirit  alike,  recorders  in  general  lay  down 
their  pens,  or  at  least,  are  wiser  to  do  so.  They  need  not 
turn  their  minds  away,  for  sunshine  and  happiness  are 
worth  considering,  among  the  elements  of  life,  and  should, 
for  all  the  pessimists'  conspicuously  clanking  fetters,  be  so 
considered  at  times.  To  some  natures,  at  least,  happiness 
is  the  swiftest  teacher  and  the  surest  guide.  Misfortune, 
extolled  by  moralists,  could  never  have  shown  Violet  so 
much,  during  the  same  short  period.  Hers  was  not  the 
so-called  sunny  temperament,  molded  for  contentment. 
She  looked  far,  and  asked  much  of  life,  testing  all  it 
offered  her  with  inherited  fastidiousness,  before  she  would 
fully  accept,  or  grant  its  worth.  But  this  summer  of  her 
twenty-first  year,  happiness  took  her  by  surprise.  It 
seized  and  held  her  unresisting,  spellbound  for  a  season, 
her  seeking  spirit  at  rest.  Its  ripening  warmth  lay  over 
her  thoughts  and  utterances,  though  she  spoke  less  than 
usual.  Its  transfiguring  touch  was  on  her  face,  for  the 
curious  observer  that  watched  its  changes  from  day  to  day. 
Not  for  Charles, — he  saw  no  change.  He  saw  what  he 
expected,  needed,  no  more, — what  her  face  had  promised 
him  for  three  years  back.  The  image  in  a  lover's  eyes, — 
especially  where  the  lover  is  poet  too, — while  it  satisfies 
him  supremely,  blinds  him ;  and  Charles'  eyes  were  hood- 
winked by  his  imagination,  quite  successfully.  Yet  even 
he  realized  that  she  had  turned  her  light  more  fully  upon 
him  of  late, — that  she  met  him  now,  if  not  half-way,  at 
least  some  distance  down  the  road.  It  is  doubtful  if  Mr. 


LISETTE  47 

Shovell, — being  in  the  insufferably  inflated  conditions  we 
have  confessed, — would  have  allowed  her  to  come  further 
than  that,  for  he  was  hot  for  the  assault.  In  the  delightful 
contest  at  close  quarters,  which  Violet  and  he  had  insti- 
tuted,— which  they  were  the  first  in  the  world  to  invent, 
most  probably, — he  had  never,  from  the  opening  day, 
failed  to  make  the  utmost  of  the  smallest  advantage  she 
would  give  him:  and  he  naturally  pressed  his  advantage 
now.  What  he  had  lightly  termed  her  "  elegance  "  amused 
him  simply,  and  teasing  her  out  of  her  shy  entrenchment 
was  his  daily  game, — though  it  was  frequently  his  lot  to 
be  crushed  in  turn,  when  she  emerged. 

Charles'  views,  in  this  heroic  mood,  were  by  no  means 
beyond  utterance,  and  baffled  neither  his  tongue  nor  his 
pen  to  express.  His  mother  laughed  half-indignant  and 
half-tender  over  his  naive  confidences.  There  is  no  dealing 
seriously  with  those  whom  life  is  determined  to  spoil, 
and  Charles'  mother  had  by  now  given  up  warning  him  to 
distrust  his  fate.  Since  attentive  fate,  or  fortune,  had 
handed  him  Violet,  it  was  useless,  obviously,  at  least  to 
his  own  mind;  and  every  letter  he  sent  home  served  to 
increase,  he  trusted,  the  impression  his  engagement  had 
originally  produced :  and  made  moralizing  on  the  maternal 
side,  as  a  fact,  more  impossible.  So  the  Rector's  wife  let 
them  be,  very  wisely,  though  she  thought  much  of  both ; 
and  she  stored  the  letters,  as  she  stored  all  she  had  ever 
had  from  Charles,  at  the  summit  of  the  pile  that  began 
far  down  with  his  blackened  schoolboy  scrawls;  though 
she  told  the  Rector  severely,  on  the  reception  of  each  in 
turn,  that  the  boy  had  no  business  to  trust  such  things  to 
the  public  post, — and  she  could  not  think  what  Violet 
would  say,  with  reason,  if  she  knew. 

Whether  by  virtue  of  the  weather,  or  these  halcyon 
conditions  within,  the  pair  turned  excessively  energetic 
in  the  second  half  of  their  stay.  They  scoured  the  country- 
side in  all  directions,  whether  in  their  own  company  on 
foot,  or  on  the  whirring  wheels  which  Mr.  Jones  supplied. 


48  DUKE  JONES 

They  picked  up  various  friends  by  the  way,  but  Mrs. 
Shovell  continued  to  be  regarded  as  extremely  haughty  in 
her  own  hotel.  There  the  pair  knew  nobody  well  but 
Jones ;  and  their  growing  intimacy  with  Jones  was  looked 
upon  as  an  added  offense  by  the  spinsters,  if  not  sniffed  at 
as  a  scandal.  For  it  was  evident  the  Shovells  did  it  because 
Jones  was  a  convenience :  because  he  fetched  and  carried 
for  the  girl,  like  a  hired  footman  almost,  and  lent  them 
his  maps  and  his  motor.  It  was  unworthy  behavior  on 
the  part  of  both:  and  on  hers  (as  Mrs.  Studley  declared) 
"  just  like  these  fast  London  people."  Supercilious, 
indeed! — not  much  superciliousness  about  her  when  she 
wanted  a  spin  in  Mr.  Jones'  car!  So  ran  some  of  the 
spinsters'  speculations;  and  they  played  a  whole  comedy 
of  disgust  at  the  proceedings  of  the  trio,  little  reckoning 
how  heaven-sent  such  a  subject  of  scandal  really  was,  in 
the  caged-squirrel  round  of  their  lives. 

Charles,  who  let  the  contents  of  his  mind  fall  into  a 
happy-go-lucky  and  rather  chaotic  state,  while  he  paid 
close  attention  to  the  nourishment  of  his  body,  the  develop- 
ment of  his  muscles,  and  the  expansion  of  his  lungs,  forgot 
for  many  days  to  tell  Violet  some  of  the  interesting  and 
necessary  things  he  had  collected  from  the  proprietress 
about  the  hotel  and  its  inmates  past,  present,  and  to  come. 
He  brought  out  surprising  scraps  of  information  at  inter- 
vals, in  jerks;  and  according  to  Violet's  mood,  she 
encouraged  or  reproved  him. 

On  the  last  day  but  one  of  their  stay,  he  suddenly 
informed  her  that  "  a  new  woman  "  was  arriving  in  the 
course  of  it:  a  personage  about  whom  all  the  hotel  was 
thrilling  with  interest,  because  she  had  a  handle  to  her 
name. 

"  I  pray  heaven  you  don't  know  her,"  said  Charles,  very 
gravely. 

Violet  said  she  trusted  not  too :  asked  him  for  the  name, 
and  then  found  he  had  forgotten  half  of  it. 


LISETTE  49 

"  Lady  Alicia  somebody,"  he  said.  "  The  Lady  Alicia, 
my  dear, — aha !  "  The  last  name  began  with  a  K  or  a  C,  he 
was  not  sure  which. 

"  Poynter,"  suggested  Violet. 

"  Poynter  it  is,"  said  Charles,  surprised.  "  What  a 
smart  girl,  to  be  sure.  Oh,  but  you  do  know  her  then, 
conf " 

"  It's  only  for  two  days,"  Violet  consoled  him,  "  and  I 
only  know  of  the  woman,  really;  and  she's  practically 
immovable,  and  not  the  least  interested  in  me.  I  shall  go 
up  to  her  chair  and  say  good  morning,  that  is  all." 

"  Her  chair  f  "  said  Charles.  "  Do  you  mean  bath-chair  ? 
This  is  a  girl." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Charles,  then  it  isn't  Poynter.  She  is 
quite  fifty,  and  quite  hideous,  and  a  martyr  to  gout.  Try 
through  the  alphabet  again." 

But  Charles  was  positive  it  was  Poynter,  and  stuck  to  it. 
He  had  heard  all  about  her  from  Mrs.  Tregathwick  the 
week  before,  and  had  meant  every  day  to  tell  Violet,  and 
then  forgotten  about  it.  And  it  was  indisputably  a  fairly 
young  person  who  was  arriving,  because  she  was  coming 
on  foot  from  Penzance.  She  was  making  a  walking  tour 
round  the  coast :  which,  Violet  would  grant,  is  not  easily 
accomplished  by  a  chair-ridden  martyr  to  gout. 

"  It  is  peculiar  enough  for  a  girl  to  do  it  alone,"  said 
Violet.  "  And  it's  odd  there  should  be  a  young  Lady  Alicia 
of  the  same  name.  A  niece  perhaps, — you  are  sure  you  did 
not  misunderstand  Mrs.  Tregathwick,  Charles  ?  " 

Charles  was  quite  sure.  "  Because  I  thought  of  J.  K. 
instantly,"  he  explained.  ( J.  K.  Poynter  was  a  cricketer.) 
"  Perhaps  it's  one  of  these  marvelous  cures.  Do  you 
think  Lady  A.  has  come  across  a  Christian  Scientist  at 
Penzance,  and  taken  up  her  chair  and  walked  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  absurd,  and  wicked,"  said  Violet.  "  Not  but 
what  I  wish  she  could,  poor  old  dear,"  she  added. 

Later  in  the  day,  towards  tea-time,  Charles  came  creep- 
ing elaborately  to  Violet,  where  she  sat  darning  his  socks 


50  DUKE  JONES 

on  the  balcony  of  her  own  room  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
for  the  sake  of  the  cool,  and  hissed  in  her  ear — "  She's 
come." 

"  What  is  she  like  ?  "  said  Violet  calmly,  threading  a 
needle. 

"  Perfectly  young.  You're  perfectly  off  it.  Poynter  it 
is,"  said  Charles.  "  The  whole  blessed  place  is  in  a  fer- 
ment, and  has  been  fermenting  for  hours.  Corks  will  fly 
off  in  all  directions  when  her  ladyship  comes  in  to  din- 
ner. If  you  had  a  spark  of  real  sympathy,  you'd  come 
downstairs  and  take  a  hand." 

"  I  have  not,"  said  Violet,  "  in  this  case.  With  a  girl 
alone,  it's  positively  horrid.  They  ought  to  have  more 
consideration." 

"  Then  you  should  have  come  and  seen  to  her,  shouldn't 
you?"  argued  Charles.  "You're  married  now.  Any- 
how, it's  high  time  you  showed  up,  unless  you  want  to  be 
cut  out  completely.  Lady  A.,  to  judge  by  accounts,  is 
something  quite  out  of  the  common  run.  Shares  in  Mrs. 
Shovell,"  said  Charles,  sitting  down  on  the  balcony-rail 
to  elaborate  his  theme,  "  are  much  below  par.  Shovells 
are  to  be  had  for  the  asking.  Poynters  are  looking  up. 
To  be  scriptural  for  a  change,  your  glory  has  departed. 
It  was  never  more  than  a  reflected  luster,  after  all." 

"  Reflected  from  you  ?  "  asked  Violet. 

"  I  allude  to  rank  and  title,"  said  Charles.  "  Transitory, 
mundane  things.  Not  beauty,  or  brains,  or  merit.  A 
ladyship  in  the  hand  is  worth  any  number  of  birthday 
baronetcies  in  the  bush.  That's  what  you  have  been  living 
on  up  to  now,  as  I  supposed  you  were  aware." 

"  No,"  said  Violet,  with  a  glance  at  him  swinging  dan- 
gerously on  the  rail.  "  However,  I  am  quite  content  to 
live  upon  him.  He  is  my  principal  claim  to  distinction, 
after  all." 

"  Contradiction  at  this  period  is  best,"  said  Charles. 
"  He  is  not  ...  I  am.  .  .  .  Now  to  return  to 
the  other  girl,  your  rival.  Contrary  to  our  calculations, 


LISETTE  51 

she  romped  in  at  a  quarter  to  twelve,  which,  as  all  the 
golf -champions  agreed,  was  ripping  good  time,  allowing 
for  her  starting  from  Penzance  at  nine.  She  certainly 
did  not  go  round  the  coast,  and  probably  she  bicycled." 

"  Don't  do  that,  dear,"  Violet  inserted  gently.  "  It's 
very  clever,  but  you  will  break  your  neck." 

Charles,  thinking  solely  of  his  tale,  got  off  the  rail  and 
stood  up,  his  hands  behind  him.  The  unconscious  obedi- 
ence was  even  more  boyish  than  his  preceding  gymnastics 
on  the  balustrade,  and  Violet  was  smiling,  her  head  bent 
low  over  her  work,  as  he  proceeded : 

"  She  should  have  been  greeted  with  a  cheer.  Instead 
of  that  she  dodged  neatly,  passed  in  by  the  back  un- 
noticed, left  her  traps  in  her  room,  and  went  out  to  lunch. 
General  collapse  of  Jones'  girls,  who  were  posted  in  the 
front,  with  binoculars." 

"  Of  whom?  "  said  Violet,  laying  down  his  sock,  and 
gazing  at  him  wide-eyed. 

"  Jones  calls  them  girls, — I  don't,"  explained  Charles. 
"  We  have  agreed  to  differ.  .  .  .  Well,  her  ladyship 
looked  in  once,  I  hear,  during  the  afternoon,  and  every- 
body had  a  go  at  her.  She  is  more  naturally  easy-man- 
nered than  you  are,  darling,  and  infinitely  better  style. 
That  on  the  authority  of  Mrs.  Studley,  the  dear  little 
woman  who  dresses  so  well.  I  got  it  secondhand  through 
Jones,  who  was  fuming.  Jones  hates  Mrs.  Studley,  I 
can't  think  why.  You  wouldn't  think,  to  look  at  Marma- 
duke,  he  had  such  evil  passions,  would  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Violet.  "  Go  on  about  the  other  girl,  be- 
cause I  want  to  know." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  really  get  much  out  of  'em,"  said 
Charles.  "  She's  fair,  anyhow.  She  is  one  of  our  real 
true-blue  British  blondes,  according  to  an  authority  you 
will  recognize.  I  rather  think  she  '  stunned '  that  lady  as 
well.  She  is — let  me  see — she  is  far  from  well-groomed, 
according  to  Jones'  girls,  who  know  what  the  word  means, 
— I  never  do.  But  then,  she  had  walked  from  Penzance 


52  DUKE  JONES 

in  record  time;  so  if  ill-groomed  means  dusty — 
does  it?" 

"  I  haven't  an  idea,"  said  Violet. 

"  Put  it  at  that,"  said  Charles.  "  You  can  lend  her  a 
clothes-brush,  when  you  get  intimate.  .  .  .  She  is,  in 
addition,  a  deuced  taking  little  lady,  and  evidently  up  to 
snuff.  That  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  Studley " 

"  Thank  you,"  cried  Violet,  throwing  aside  the  sock. 
"  I  can  do  without  Mr.  Studley 's  opinions.  How  can  you, 
Charles  ?  Where  is  the  poor  girl  ?  "  She  sat  up  in  her 
deck-chair  and  caught  the  balcony-rail. 

"  Run  along  and  chaperon  her,"  said  Charles,  with 
an  easy  smile.  "  I  said  she  wanted  you,  didn't  I  ?  We 
men  are  such  ruffians, — aren't  we?  I  waited  till  Studley 
had  finished  his  remarks  on  that  head, — it  took  some  time, 
— and  then  said  what  I  thought  of  him,  rather  loud.  I 
think  it  carried  into  all  the  corners,  though  that '  lounge  ' 
of  theirs  is  a  cornery  place.  Hole-and-cornery,"  added 
Charles,  elaborating  tranquilly  as  ever. 

"  Did  you  ?  "  Violet  sank  back.  "  I  am  rather  glad.  He 
does  need  snubbing  badly,  doesn't  he  ?  " 

"  She  turned  white  with  rage,"  said  Charles.  "  The 
wife,  I  mean, — but  she  didn't  say  anything.  She  hasn't 
any  spunk, — nor  has  he, — they  only  hate  me.  They'll 
hate  you  worse  too,  ducky;  so  look  out.  The  little  New 
Yorker,  who  is  much  the  best  of  them,  backed  me  like 
winking.  She  had  been  languishing  for  a  man  to  say  just 
that,  Mr.  Shovell,  and  she  was  going  out,  right  away,  to 
find  that  girl  and  make  friends.  .  .  .  Consequently, 
my  blessed  child,"  concluded  Charles,  locking  his  two 
hands  suddenly  under  Violet's  chin  from  above,  "you 
need  not  fag,  and  can  sit  tight,  because,  when  our  young 
friend  Hattie  says  a  thing  she  ups  and  does  it,  slick  away. 
Not  to  mention  there's  more  than  a  chance  her  ladyship  is 
bad  style,  after  all.  Because  Studley's  approval  goes  for 
more  than  his  wife's — any  day,"  added  Charles  re- 
flectively. 


LISETTE  53 

Violet  said  she  would  see  at  dinner.  Pending  the  hour 
of  dressing  for  that  meal,  however,  she  decided  to  let  the 
disputant  parties  below-stairs  cool  off  without  her  inter- 
ference, and  to  finish  Charles'  other  sock. 

Towards  the  dinner-hour  she  slipped  down,  white-clad, 
her  father's  pearls  about  her  neck.  She  flitted  like  a  moth 
through  the  usual  little  group  about  the  door,  whose  talk 
instinctively  fell  lower  at  the  sight  of  her,  turning  her 
head  about  as  she  went  to  look  for  Charles.  There  were 
innumerable  hiding-places,  as  he  had  said,  but  she  could 
not  discover  him  in  the  entrance-hall  or  the  veranda. 

"  Has  my  husband  gone  out  ?  "  she  queried  lightly,  as 
she  bent  her  head  a  very  little  to  the  salute  of  the  burliest 
golfing-man,  sitting  at  the  door. 

Her  husband  had  walked  a  bit  along  the  terrace,  he  told 
her,  and  couldn't  be  far.  She  thanked  him,  remarked  on 
the  exquisite  light,  which  was  glorifying  all  without,  and 
to  which  her  informant's  back  was  solidly  turned,  and 
went  on  her  way.  He  looked  after  her,  with  heavy  bleared 
eyes,  even  as  a  bull  might  look  after  a  butterfly  that  had 
settled  near  it  for  an  instant. 

"  Knows  how  to  walk,  that  girl,"  was  all  he  found  to 
say,  after  an  interval ;  but  the  other  bride,  Mrs.  Studley, 
whom  he  addressed,  bit  her  lip.  The  other  bride  could 
compete  with  Violet  in  all  lines  quite  successfully, — even 
her  father,  mayor  of  his  native  town,  had  been  knighted, 
— but  it  never  struck  her  that  there  was  more  than  one 
way  to  walk:  or  that  such  a  very  stupid  man  as  that  by 
the  door  could  notice  it,  if  there  was. 

As  Violet  came  up  to  Charles,  he  was  standing  still,  his 
back  to  her. 

"  Hist !  "  he  murmured  without  turning.  "  Come  along- 
side. There  she  is." 

At  the  end  of  the  hill-side  terrace,  studded  with  seats  at 
intervals,  on  which  the  hotel  was  perched,  a  flight  of  steps 
led  up  from  the  street  below.  Several  people  were 


54  DUKE  JONES 

mounting,  in  the  clear  evening  light,  trespassing  on  the 
hotel  property,  of  deliberate  intent,  to  get  the  view.  About 
the  sunset  hour  this  often  happened,  and  was  winked  at 
by  the  authorities  so  long  as  the  private  visitors  were  not 
ousted  or  inconvenienced.  As  Violet  reached  Charles' 
side,  a  girl  came  up,  followed  by  a  man.  The  man,  after 
looking  about  him,  seemed  to  realize  he  was  on  private 
ground,  turned,  and  slunk  down  again ;  the  girl  came  on 
towards  them,  with  a  swinging,  rather  defiant  gait.  She 
was  clad  in  tweed,  loosely  cut:  a  felt  hat  was  crammed 
rather  low  over  her  eyes,  but  worn  with  indefinable  art, — 
a  certainty  of  effect :  and  no  swaggering  could  quite  con- 
ceal her  body's  grace.  Before  she  reached  the  Shovells, 
becoming  aware,  no  doubt,  of  the  marvelous  illumination 
in  the  sky  to  her  left,  she  paused  uncertainly,  and  then 
dropped  onto  one  of  the  seats,  where  two  others  of  the 
hotel  visitors  were  already  seated  to  admire. 

"  Dash !  "  muttered  Charles,  for  the  young  lady  was 
carelessly  occupying  two  places  on  which  he  had  had  his 
eye.  Violet  and  he  strolled  slowly  forward,  side  by  side, 
her  eyes  diverted  to  the  cloud-pageant,  his  seeking  me- 
chanically a  place  for  her  on  the  seats  in  sight,  for  the 
spectacle  in  the  sky  was  now  attracting  all  the  world,  and 
the  terrace  being  a  good  point  of  view,  competition  for 
places  was  increasing. 

"  There's  room  for  one,"  he  murmured  to  her  discreetly, 
as  they  reached  the  bench  on  which  the  young  Lady  Alicia 
was  seated.  The  other  two  occupants,  either  taking  the 
hint,  or  having  admired  enough,  rose  suddenly,  and 
moved  away  from  them. 

"  A  la  bonne  heure,"  said  Violet  lightly.  "  Now  we  can 
gloat  at  our  ease." 

The  girl  before  them  stirred  and  lifted  her  eyes,  which 
had  been  fixed  rather  sullenly  on  the  sunset.  As  they 
lifted*— they  were  very  remarkable  eyes — Violet  stopped 
with  a  start. 

"  Lisette !  "  she  exclaimed. 


LISETTE  55 

"  Oh,  damn,"  said  the  young  lady,  not  loud,  but  per- 
fectly audible.  She  seemed  to  gather  her  lithe  limbs  to- 
gether, as  a  hare  does  before  it  flies.  Charles,  at  the 
double  exclamation,  turned  about  amazed. 

"  How  did  you  get  here  ?  "  said  Violet,  rather  breath- 
less with  the  shock.  Her  hand  had  dropped  from  her  hus- 
band's arm.  The  girl  on  the  seat  shot  a  glance  at  him 
before  she  spoke. 

"  That's  my  own  affair.    How  did  you?  " 

"  I  am  staying  here, — have  been  for  two  weeks." 

"Not  in  this  hotel?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Well,  I  am  staying  for  two  nights, — on  my  way  to 
London.  On  my  way  to  Paris,  finally."  She  spoke  de- 
fiantly. "  I  never  thought  of  seeing  you,  though."  She 
gazed  with  resentment  at  the  other  girl. 

"  Paris  ?  "  queried  Violet.  "  But  where  are  the  others, 
then?" 

"  At  home,  to  be  sure, — wh^re  should  they  be?  That's 
where  I've  come  from." 

"  From  Torquay  ?    To-day  ?    But  how  ?  " 

"  I  shan't  tell  you,"  said  Lisette  at  leisure,  and  glanced 
at  Charles  again. 

"  By  the  way," — Violet  was  reminded, — "  may  I 
present  my  husband?  It  is  Miss  Felicia  Addenbroke, 
Charles." 

"Your  husband?"  said  Miss  Addenbroke,  her  jaw 
dropping.  "  Are  you  married  f  " 

"  To  be  sure,  for  a  month  past.  Surely  Mother  wrote, 
— hadn't  you  heard  ?  " 

"  That's  why  I  didn't  see  your  name  on  the  list,  then," 
said  the  girl,  hitting  the  seat  with  her  clenched  hand. 
"  Ass,  not  to  think  of  it !  What's  your  name  ?  "  Her 
singular,  quick  glance  turned  to  Charles. 

"  Shovell,"  he  said,  half  laughing,  "  at  your  service." 

Miss  Addenbroke's  manner,  to  a  complete  stranger,  was 
amusing.  It  was  familiar,  and  yet  not  especially  offensive, 


56  DUKE  JONES 

by  virtue  of  the  absolute  indifference  of  her  regard.  This 
was  the  manner,  no  doubt,  which  had  so  gravely  misled 
the  hotel  gentlemen.  A  Studley  might  easily  have  mis- 
understood it,  reflected  Charles. 

"  Shovell, — oh  yes,"  she  repeated.  A  pause.  "  Now  I 
think,  Honoria  did  mention  you  were  engaged.  Cousin 
Eveleen  wrote  to  her  about  it."  Felicia  was  staring  at 
Violet  again.  She  had  beautiful,  strange  eyes,  a  little 
dilated,  and  Charles  was  searching  his  memory  desperately 
to  determine  where  he  had  seen  them  before.  Then  he 
remembered  his  mother-in-law's  had  the  same  shape  and 
fine  curved  lashes,  though  their  glance  was  quite  differ- 
ent. Much  interested,  and  quite  quiescent,  Charles  stood 
sentry  by,  and  watched  the  pair  of  girls. 

"  Did  it  surprise  you?  "  Violet  said  of  her  engagement. 

"  No."  Lisette  thrust  her  lip  forward,  like  Eveleen 
again  for  the  moment.  "  If  it  had,  I  shouldn't  have  for- 
gotten about  it,  should  I?  The  Ingestres  do  marry, — 
somehow, — I  suppose  you've  got  that  in  you, — I 
forget." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Violet.    "  I  even  bear  the  name." 

"  Do  you  ?  Well,  it's  a  good  one.  I  always  forget  rela- 
tions, and  those  things.  Honoria's  engaged  too;  you 
mayn't  have  heard.  Oh  yes,  she  is, — it's  the  news  of  the 
day.  Surprised  she  hasn't  written  you  about  it,  she  has 
most  people.  Lord,  such  a  man, — you'd  laugh.  .  .  . 
So,  you  see,  there's  hope  for  all  of  us,"  Felicia  added.  She 
shifted  her  position  slightly,  and  folded  her  arms. 
"What's  my  name,  do  you  suppose?"  she  inquired. 
"  Have  a  guess."  She  included  Charles,  by  a  sliding 
glance,  in  the  invitation. 

"  But  we  know,"  cried  Violet.  "  How  could  you, 
Lisette  ?  How  did  you  ever  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  Well, — I  wanted  to  be  respectable  down  here :  so  I 
thought  of  the  worst  frump  of  my  acquaintance, — see? 
She  often  comes  to  Torquay,  you  know, — Aunty  and  she 
love  the  same  clergyman.  That  shows  she's  respectable, 


LISETTE  57 

doesn't  it? — so  I  took  her  name.  It's  great  fun, — I'd  like 
to  tell  her.  Perhaps  when  I  get  to  London  I  will." 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  said  Violet  gravely.  "  Turn  your 
thoughts  to  us,  Charles  and  me, — the  quandary  you  put  us 
into.  Whatever  are  we  to  do  at  dinner,  for  instance  ?  You 
don't  expect  us  to  use  that  name?  Good  gracious,  why," 
— she  looked  disconsolately  at  the  girl  before  her, — "  I 
should  laugh,  every  time.  I  know  the  woman,  you  see." 

Another  pause,  Felicia  considering  it.  "  He  can  call  me 
Lisette,"  she  remarked,  nodding  at  Charles.  **  That'll  do 
all  right.  It  stands  for  Alicia  just  as  well.  Alicia — 
Felicia, — see?  Now  don't  go  saying  I'm  not  clever,"  she 
concluded  with  a  nod  at  Violet.  "  I  thought  of  that  before 
you  did,  anyhow.  You're  clever,  aren't  you  ?  Are  those 
pearls  real  ?  " 

Violet  did  not  answer  the  last  sudden  inquiry.  Her 
hand  had  risen  unaware  to  her  necklace,  teasing  the  row 
of  pearls  while  she  reflected,  which  was  what  had  led 
Miss  Addenbroke's  errant  attention  to  dwell  on  them, 
probably. 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  with  sudden  soft  decision,  laying  the 
same  hand  on  Charles'  arm, — "  we  have  barely  any  time. 
Do  you  terribly  mind  going, — quick,  before  they  ring, — 
and  having  Lisette's  place  moved  up  next  to  mine  ?  Mrs. 
Tregathwick  is  so  kind,  and  I  am  sure  Mr.  Jones  will 
not  object,  if  you  explain." 

Charles  nodded  to  her  look,  and  went, — flew,  rather — 
light-footed  in  his  light  shoes.  He  was  an  elegant  runner, 
and  the  asphalt  road  was  tempting,  straight  and  clean. 
So  Charles  streaked  to  the  hotel,  as  on  a  race-course. 
Felicia  Addenbroke  looked  after  him. 

"  He  might  have  had  the  tact  to  go  before,"  said  Violet, 
taking  the  seat  at  her  side.  "  Isn't  that  what  you  are 
thinking  ?  But  he  could  hardly  know,  poor  boy,  could  he  ?  " 

'"  Do  you  know  ?  "  said  Felicia,  staring  again  at  Charles' 
wife ;  through  her,  rather,  for  her  eyes  at  close  quarters 
had  not  the  grasping  quality. 


58  DUKE  JONES 

"  I  had  a  note  from  Mother,  and  she  sent  Cousin  Agnes' 
on.  I  think,  now,  you  had  better  tell  me  everything, 
hadn't  you,  Lisette  ?  It's  simpler,  now  we  are  all  together. 
Come  to  our  room,  on  the  second  floor,  after  dinner,— 
won't  you?  I  can  get  rid  of  Charles." 

"  He  can  hear  if  he  wants,"  said  the  girl.  "  I'm  not 
ashamed  of  anything.  There  is  nothing  really  to  tell 
How  did  you  find  him?  "  she  added,  sullenly  rather,  and 
lowering  her  tone,  since  Violet  was  close  to  her. 

"  Find  Charles  ?  He  found  me.  Let  me  see," — she 
leant  back  to  reflect, — "  you  remember  the  Gibbs  girls, 
don't  you? — Margery  and  Maud.  Charles'  mother  mar- 
ried their  father,  that's  all.  So  we  all  became  acquainted." 

"  Margery, — that  was  the  pretty  one,"  said  Lisette, 
seeming  to  catch  a  wandering  memory.  "  Why  didn't 
he  marry  her?" 

"  Well,  dear, — I  suppose  because  Sir  Robert  Brading 
came  along,  and  asked  her  first.  So  Charles  fell  back  on 
me,"  said  Violet  gently. 

"  That's  a  way  of  boasting,"  remarked  Lisette,  lifting 
a  hand  for  an  instant  to  Violet's  pearls.  The  gesture, 
bold  in  fact,  like  her  speech,  was  coaxing  in  manner, 
childish  almost,  and  invited  gentle  treatment. 

"  Is  it?  Perhaps  it  is,"  laughed  Violet.  "  Mayn't  you 
boast  a  little  on  your  wedding  journey?  " 

Felicia,  for  all  reply,  took  her  cousin's  hand  up  and  ex- 
amined the  rings  upon  it,  with  furtive,  cautious  fingers. 
At  the  same  time  she  wrinkled  her  little  nose,  as  though 
investigating  the  vague  dry  scent  that  clung  to  Mrs. 
Shovell's  wedding  clothes.  Then,  her  finger-tips  on  the 
bridal  hoop,  she  shifted  her  eyes  for  a  minute  to  Violet's 
face.  As  she  did  so,  she  passed  the  tip  of  a  little  red 
tongue  across  her  lips.  She  had  done  this  once  or  twice 
before,  in  the  course  of  her  idle,  rather  defiant  remarks. 
It  is  a  well-known  feverish  symptom,  for  it  means  that 
the  lips  are  dry. 

"  Inexplicable,  I  admit  it,"  said  Violet,  smiling,  for  the 


LISETTE  59 

glance  from  ring  to  face  had  spoken ;  "  but  it  is  so,  all  the 
same.  You  are  like  a  cat,  Lisette.  Rather  a  wild  cat, 
though.  Why  don't  you  get  married,  dear  ?  You  couldn't 
have  any  difficulty." 

"  Couldn't  I  ?  All  you  know  about  it,"  said  the  girl. 
She  got  up  on  the  words,  and  stood  restlessly.  "  I'll  tell 
you  after  dinner,  perhaps,"  she  said.  "  Some  of  it.  I'll 
tell  you  less  lies  than  Honoria,  anyhow.  Honoria  simply 
makes  you  lie.  Honoria  is — damnable.  I'm  going  in  to 
tidy  now,"  she  added  indifferently.  "  I  shall  be  late,  I 
expect.  I've  nothing  to  wear,  of  course."  She  stopped, 
glancing  at  the  pearls  again. 

"  You're  lovely  anyhow,"  said  Violet.  "  You  know 
that  very  well.  You  shall  have  anything  you  want  of 
mine,  though,"  she  added  gently,  her  eyes  distracted  to 
the  entrancing  sky. 

"  Anything  I  want !  What  a  way  to  talk !  You  know 
I  can't,  so  you  tell  lies  about  it.  You've  got  everything, 
haven't  you  ?  Cheap  way  of  being  nice,  I  call  it."  After 
these  expressions  of  opinion,  Lisette  added,  "  Are  you 
going  on  sitting  there  ?  " 

"  A  minute  or  two,  I  must.  The  color's  so  perfect  as  it 
dies, — so  cold." 

"  Umph !  "  said  Felicia  dubiously.  She  glanced  once  at 
the  sunset,  wrinkling  her  little  nose  again,  in  criticism 
evidently.  "  It's  not  so  bad,"  she  admitted,  "  but  no  good 
to  paint.  I  can't  ever  remember  colors  afterwards — 
Father  could.  .  .  .  Violet,  I  say, — are  those  pearls 
real?" 

II 

Charles  did  not  address  Miss  Addenbroke  by  her  pet 
name  at  dinner,  as  invited,  and  Violet  was  equally  careful 
to  avoid  all  unnecessary  appendages  when  she  spoke. 
Felicia  herself  talked  very  little  during  the  earlier  part 
of  the  meal.  She  sat  eating,  and  gazing  before  her ;  but 
for  all  that,  the  impression  of  intimacy  between  her 


60  DUKE  JONES 

and  the  girl  at  her  elbow  seemed  to  penetrate,  and  reach 
the  popular  attention.  For  one  thing,  that  attention  was 
so  pressing  as  to  be  disagreeable,  at  least  to  one  of  the 
pair ;  for  another,  Lisette  herself  was  quite  careless  of  the 
part  she  had  undertaken,  and  used  Violet's  first  name 
when  she  happened  to  want  it,  asking  her  to  pass  things, 
loudly ;  for  a  third,  she  was  actually  wearing  a  blouse  of 
Mrs.  Shovell's:  as  at  any  rate  one  suspicious  eye 
discerned. 

"  She  knows  her,"  muttered  Mrs.  Studley  to  her  spouse. 
"  She  must  have  done  before.  They  only  had  ten  minutes 
before  dinner  together,  because  I  watched.  She  must 
hang  on  to  a  pretty  good  set,  then,"  she  admitted  grudg- 
ingly. She  spoke,  as  need  not  be  said,  of  Violet,  since 
Lisette's  "  handle  "  secured  her  from  criticism. 

Mr.  Studley,  who  did  nothing  but  stare  at  the  new- 
comer like  a  man  in  an  hypnotic  trance,  hardly  heard. 
Half  the  world  was  staring  in  fascination,  wonder,  or  in 
vague  discomfort.  When  Lisette  walked  in  to  dinner, 
quite  late,  having  thrown  on  a  blouse  of  her  cousin's,  and 
hardly  touched  her  hair,  dragged  low  by  the  felt  hat  into 
a  mat  on  her  forehead,  the  hotel  had  its  long-coveted  sen- 
sation. Corks,  as  Charles  put  it,  flew  off.  Lisette  could 
not  see  her  place  at  first  in  the  crowded  room,  and  made 
her  little  private  grimaces,  as  she  stood  consulting  with 
the  waiter,  and  looking  up  and  down  for  it. 

"  She  is  much — much  lovelier  than  I  remembered," 
moaned  Violet  softly  to  Charles.  "  I  cannot  introduce  her 
to  Mr.  Jones,  darling;  I  simply  cannot  do  it.  If  I  say 
Alicia  Poynter,  with  that  absurd  thing  in  front  of  me, 
I  shall  inevitably  laugh  aloud;  and  then  neither  Lisette 
nor  Marmaduke  will  ever  forgive  me.  You  really  must 
come  to  my  assistance,  Charles.  I  am  getting  hysterical. 
The  original  Alicia  is  so  very  frightful,  if  you  knew." 

Charles  hardly  felt  like  laughing.  The  general  petrified 
interest  in  the  girl  almost  scared  him,  thinking  of  his  wife's 
tacit  assumption  of  the  guardianship  of  this  impossible 


LISETTE  61 

little  creature.  Charles  felt  like  an  anxious  father  of  a 
family,  almost,  as  he  rose,  drew  Felicia's  chair  back  in 
his  best  manner,  and  when  she  was  within  it,  murmured 
the  ridiculous  travesty  of  her  real  name  to  Jones.  He 
dared  not  look  to  see  how  Jones  took  it ;  nor  did  Lisette 
look  at  Jones, — she  looked  at  the  menu  which  he  handed. 
And  Jones,  at  her  side,  appeared  ten  times  more  staidly 
commonplace,  so  much  so  as  to  verge  upon  the  comical. 
He  was  a  general  object  of  envy  to  his  sex,  but  he  did  not 
seem  fully  to  appreciate  his  situation.  He  glanced  beyond 
his  new  neighbor  constantly,  his  air  protesting  very  faintly. 
He  had  got  used  to  Mrs.  Sho veil's  proximity  at  dinner, 
and  to  her  soft  remarks ;  and,  since  Jones  was  a  creature 
of  custom,  he  missed  her.  Added  to  this,  he  could  not  see 
Lisette  so  well  as  the  rest  of  the  room,  since  she  was 
squeezed  against  his  elbow ;  so  any  consolation  he  might 
thus  have  been  permitted  was  denied  him. 

Felicia  Addenbroke  was  fair, — fair  as  a  water-wraith. 
Mrs.  Studley,  even  with  the  aid  of  the  most  skilful  and 
persistent  dyeing,  could  never  have  hit  the  tint  of  her 
pale  gold  hair, — an  ashen  gold,  most  delicate  and  unusual. 
Nor  could  art  have  imitated  the  way  it  grew,  twining  in  all 
directions,  embracing  her  ears,  and  flattering  the  nape  of 
her  enchanting  neck.  In  itself,  the  hair  was  sufficient 
fascination ;  but  Lisette  went  further.  She  distracted  the 
unwary  by  her  use  of  her  extraordinary  eyes;  she  en- 
snared them  by  every  new  position  of  her  constantly 
changing  mouth.  She  bit  her  lip  a  good  deal,  a  sign  of  un- 
certainty and  weakness :  but  far  from  unbecoming,  as  the 
connoisseur  will  admit,  to  a  pretty  mouth  and  teeth.  She 
did  not  seem  to  like  looking  at  anybody  much,  and  kept 
her  lashes  lowered  a  good  deal.  But  at  any  sudden  clash 
in  the  serving,  or  unwary  voice,  she  threw  a  glance  from 
her — no  other  phrase  would  describe  such  swiftness — in 
that  direction.  Her  senses,  like  an  animal's,  were  evi- 
dently exquisitively  keen,  and  her  nerves  on  edge.  Lisette 
was  also,  like  all  artists  in  sensation,  a  gourmand,  not  to 


62  DUKE  JONES 

use  a  harder  English  title.  She  took  the  best  part  of  every 
dish  submitted  to  her,  with  quiet  deliberation,  and  ate  it 
attentively.  She  also  took  wine,  and  Violet  kept  an  eye 
sidelong  upon  her  glass  and  its  refilling.  It  would  seem 
she  had  some  recollection  of  such  a  taste  in  the  young 
lady;  for,  at  a  point  towards  the  end  of  the  meal,  she 
reached  a  hand  across  inconspicuously,  and  held  Miss 
Addenbroke's  right  wrist,  as  the  waiter  with  the  de- 
canters approached. 

Lisette,  as  he  passed  unsummoned,  made  a  face  at  her 
captor,  and  laughed  slightly.  Nobody  else  espied  the 
movement,  with  the  exception  of  Marmaduke  Jones. 
Jones  could  not  help  seeing  the  clever  little  hand,  with  its 
swift,  decided  movement  towards  him,  which  pinioned  his 
neighbor's  supple  white  wrist  for  that  short  moment.  It 
was  the  first, — absolutely  the  first — incident  of  the  meal 
that  really  fixed  his  attention  on  the  girl  at  his  side.  He 
observed  that,  wilful  as  she  looked,  she  was  submissive  to 
the  tacit  warning ;  only  pouting,  sly,  and  a  trifle  amused. 

By  rank  ill-luck  for  Jones,  Lisette  caught  his  eye  before 
he  could  withdraw  it. 

"  She  thinks  I've  had  enough,"  she  remarked  to  him, 
with  her  astounding  manner  of  familiarity,  the  same  she 
had  used  to  Charles.  "  She  thinks  she's  married,  so  she 
can  manage  me.  That's  what  they  always  do.  She's 
younger  really, — a  kid.  How  old  are  you,  Violet? — He 
wants  to  know."  Turning  to  her  other  hand  again,  she 
nodded  backwards  to  the  gentleman  on  her  right. 

To  say  that  Jones  would  never  have  thought  of  putting 
such  a  question  is,  his  chronicler  hopes,  quite  unnecessary. 
He  would  have  sunk  beneath  the  table  sooner.  It  was 
simply  Lisette's  native  naughtiness,  and  he  held  his 
breath  until  the  answer  came.  So  did  others  within 
range,  for  the  question  had  been  recklessly  loud.  For- 
tunately, Mrs.  Shovell  seemed  amused.  "  I  am  twenty 
and  a  half, — a  largish  half.  What  are  you  telling  Mr. 
Jones  about  me,  please  ?  " 


LISETTE  63 

"  What  did  I  say  ?  "  Felicia,  quite  content,  turned  back 
again.  "  I'm  a  year  older  easily.  I'm  quite  grown  up, — 
of  age, — I  dare  say  I  shall  get  married  soon.  When  I  am, 
perhaps  she  will  let  me  alone  to  manage  my  drinks, — what 
do  you  say  ? "  She  flung  a  wonderful  glance  at  Jones, 
and  then  another  at  Violet.  "  Though  I  don't  suppose  I 
shall  ever  wear  such  pearls  as  those."  Her  voice  sank  into 
confidence  on  the  last  phrase.  "  Her  father's  rich,  you 
know,  and  spoils  her.  So  did  mine.  I  was  spoiled, — great 
Scott,  wasn't  I  just! — till  he  died.  I  did  as  I  liked  at 
home.  But  he  couldn't  give  me  things,  for  the  best  of  rea- 
sons, so  here  I  am  without  clothes  to  my  back.  Fact !  " — 
she  showed  the  unwilling  Jones  her  sleeve. — "  That  isn't 
mine,  it's  hers.  I  shall  k§ep  it,  though, — rather.  It  suits 
me.  She  said  I  could  have  anything  of  hers  I  wanted,  and 
I  shall.  People  should  say  what  they  mean,  shouldn't 
they?" 

Marmaduke  was  too  completely  overpowered  by  this 
titled  lady's  behavior  to  answer  her  constant  appeals  for 
sympathy,  still  less  to  contradict  any  of  the  opinions  so 
freely  presented  to  him,-  and  so  far  Lisette  barely  left 
him  the  time.  Having  fed  herself,  she  felt  comfortable, 
and  prepared  to  chatter ;  and  since  fate  offered  her  Jones 
to  chatter  to,  she  accepted  him,  having  appraised  the 
article  with  a  pout  before  she  began.  He  had  been  intro- 
duced to  her,  anyhow, — not  that  it  would  have  made  much 
difference  if  he  had  not.  Having  said  her  say,  she  leant 
back,  and  gave  him  another  wonderful  glance  in  the 
pause.  She  thought  he  might  offer  something,  to  induce 
a  pleasant  argument,  and  waited  to  see  what  it  was. 

Lisette  rarely  coquetted;  as  with  Violet's  mother,  it 
was  rarely  necessary.  She  noticed  her  own  effect  on  peo- 
ple, that  was  all.  She  had  noticed  it,  with  advantageous 
results,  from  the  age  of  four  years  old.  But  her  effect 
on  this  man  was  not  noticeable,  at  least  to  her  rather  undis- 
cerning  eyes.  He  showed  none  of  the  ordinary  signs,  the 
ready  and  gallant  response,  to  which  Miss  Lisette  was 


64  DUKE  JONES 

accustomed.  He  might,  of  course,  be  afraid  of  her, — that 
occurred  now  and  then,  and  amused  Lisette  prodigiously 
when  it  did.  Yet  he  did  not  shrink  visibly, — he  showed 
singularly  little  emotion  of  any  sort.  He  looked  a  trifle 
puzzled,  perhaps  as  to  the  moral  question  she  had  raised — 
the  question  as  to  the  possession  of  the  blouse.  That  sub- 
ject would  do  to  argue  on  as  well  as  another. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  suits  me  ?  "  asked  Lisette,  thinking 
it  might  be  the  artistic  point  on  which  he  disagreed.  "  I 
thought  it  did,  up  there,  but  I  hadn't  time  to  look  long. 
She  turned  the  light  out.  I  hoped  they'd  stick  me  down 
at  dinner  in  front  of  a  glass.  They  often  do  at  these 
places.  Then  I  could  see  if  it  suited  me  really." 

"  It  might  suit  other  people  just  as  well,"  remarked 
Jones,  fidgeting  with  his  fork.  On  strictly  moral  points, 
Jones  could  generally  be  quite  clear  in  his  own  mind,  and 
was  ready,  when  challenged,  to  offer  a  modest  opinion. 
But  on  the  question  of  this  particular  piece  of  feminine 
apparel  he  felt  at  sea.  It  happened  to  be  of  a  particularly 
lovely  shade  of  twilight  blue,  a  fabric  of  veiled  lights  and 
soft  shadows,  bewildering  even  as  to  color  for  ordinary 
man  to  define.  Pale  blue  is  a  tint  which  fair-haired  and 
dark-haired  ladies  may  equally  well  assume,— no  denying 
it,  with  the  evidence  supplied.  Jones  had  got  used  to  it 
with  dark  hair,  but  that  was  hardly  a  presentable  argu- 
ment ;  the  girl  wore  it  in  a  way  to  make  Studley  stare, — 
an  objection  even  less  possible  to  advance.  Worst  of  all, 
whatever  he  said,  Lady  Whatever-she-was  might  turn  to 
Mrs.  Shovell  again  and  betray  him.  His  was  a  false  posi- 
tion,— really  horrible  in  the  circumstances.  There  seemed 
nothing  for  it  but  to  be  honest,  a  thing  not  difficult  as  a 
rule  to  Jones :  but  it  cost  him  more  of  an  effort  than  usual. 

"  Other  people ! "  Felicia  laughed  out,  all  her  little 
white  teeth  gleaming  for  an  instant.  "  Why,  there  aren't 
any  others  when  I  like  a  thing !  Didn't  you  guess  that  ? — 
I  know  what  you  mean,  though,"  she  added  with  a  soft, 
sly  look.  "  You  mean  she  looks  as  nice  in  it  as  I  do.  Well, 


LISETTE  65 

why  don't  you  say  so,  then  ?  I  shouldn't  care.  I  say  what 
I  mean,  and  I  want  other  people  to." 

"  Will  your  ladyship  stop  saying  what  you  mean  to  Mr. 
Jones," — Mrs.  Shovell's  voice  beyond  intervened  again, 
and  Marmaduke  breathed  more  freely, — "  and  come  up- 
stairs with  us  ?  I  am  sure  for  one  evening  he  has  been 
instructed  sufficiently." 

"  Oh  well,  I  don't  care,"  said  Felicia,  her  usual  fashion 
of  assenting.  "  We  can  go  on  to-morrow, — I've  another 
night.  I  love  arguing,"  she  added  unnecessarily,  as  she 
rose.  With  a  last  glance  at  the  uncomfortable  Jones,  she 
departed,  leaving  him,  as  was  probable,  to  be  teased  by  the 
whole  circle  of  his  acquaintance  when  the  ladies  were  gone. 

"We  shall  have  to  take  her  between  us,  Charles,  to- 
morrow," observed  Violet,  when  the  trio  had  left  the  din- 
ing-room, and  were  upon  the  stairs.  "  She  is  really  not 
to  be  trusted." 

"  Oh  well,  I  shan't  mind,"  said  Felicia  calmly.  "  But  I 
shall  swear  and  shock  him, — and  what  will  you  say  then  ?  " 
She  wrinkled  her  impudent  nose  at  Violet. 

"  You  can't  teach  him  any  swear-words  that  he  doesn't 
know,"  said  Violet, — too  audaciously  as  her  husband 
thought.  "  You  should  have  heard  him  the  other  day  on 
the  sand." 

"  Is  he  so  wicked  ?  "  said  Lisette.  "  I'm  glad  of  that. 
I  like  people  to  be  wicked,  a  little  bit.  Not  too  much,  of 
course,  but  rather.  It's  better  than  the  other  thing, 
anyhow, — like  Aunt.  I'd  sooner  have  him," — she  nodded 
at  Charles, — "  than  that  other  man,  the  dull  one  that  sat 
by  me.  He's  something  to  say  for  himself,  anyhow." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Charles,  "  awfully.  I'll  keep  it  dark 
from  Jones." 

"  You  needn't,"  returned  Lisette.  "  He  doesn't  care  for 
me  much.  He  won't  mind  what  I  think  about  him,  any- 
how. He's  a  stuck-up  sort."  Turning  from  Charles  with 
indifference,  she  took  Violet's  arm  as  they  reached  the 
upper  floor.  "  He  didn't  care  for  me  teasing  him,  you 


66  DUKE  JONES 

know,"  she  said,  in  confidence.  "  He  didn't  think  I  ought 
to  have  this  blouse." 

"  Nor  does  Charles,"  said  Violet.  "  It's  the  color  he 
likes.  Ask  him  what  he  thinks  about  the  matter." 

"  I  shan't,"  said  Lisette.  "  He's  stuffy,— I  shall  ask  you. 
You'll  give  it  to  me,  won't  you  ?  "  She  squeezed  the  arm 
she  held,  pushing  close. 

"  Of  course,  dear,  if  you're  sure  you  like  no  other  bet- 
ter. You  might  change  your  mind  again.  You  dressed 
rather  hastily,  didn't  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Shovell  gave  two  touches  to  Felicia's  hair  in  front, 
looking  her  calmly  in  the  eyes.  They  had  reached  their 
private  room  now,  and  were  facing  each  other  on  the 
hearth.  They  were  certainly  curiously  contrasted,  not 
only  in  surface  coloring,  though  such  a  meeting  of  morn- 
ing and  dusk  might  well  captivate  a  man's  imagination. 
But  Charles,  though  a  poet  in  his  way,  was  not  thinking 
of  externals  for  the  moment.  He  was  vexed  in  mind, — 
not  jealous  or  ill-tempered  as  the  girl  seemed  to  imagine. 
His  wife's  way  of  managing  the  creature  was  instinctive, 
and  he  had  left  the  opening  tactics  willingly  to  her;  but 
he  did  not  see,  ultimately,  what  good  a  girl  like  that  could 
do  Violet,  or  vice  versa.  There  was  an  inner  complexion, 
as  well  as  an  outer,  to  be  considered;  a  fine  spiritual 
bloom  which,  even  if  Violet  had  not  possessed  it,  Charles' 
form  of  adoration  would  have  supplied.  He  had  a  strong 
feeling,  in  short,  that  he,  personally,  was  an  element  in 
this  situation;  and  an  element  whose  intervention  might 
at  any  moment  be  required. 

"  Go  away ! "  said  Lisette  to  him  sharply,  having 
watched  Violet's  face  for  an  interval,  biting  her  lip. 
"  Send  him  away,"  she  jerked  to  her  cousin.  "  I'm  going 
to  cry." 

On  the  words  she  sank  on  a  convenient  chair  in  a  grace- 
ful heap,  and  broke  into  furious  sobbing,  her  fair  head 
in  her  hands. 


LISETTE  67 

"  Will  you  go,  dear?"  said  Mrs.  Shovell,  turning  with 
raised  brows.  "  And  tell  them  not  coffee,  please, — we  had 
better  be  alone.  Leave  me  a  cigarette,  there's  an  angel, 
• — I  think  that's  all."  She  looked  delicate  and  dubious, 
to  the  critic's  eye. 

"  She'd  better  go  to  bed,  I  should  think,"  said  Charles, 
propping  himself  obstinately,  hands  behind,  against  the 
mantelshelf.  Lisette  on  her  chair  was  weeping  with  the 
abandon  of  a  child — a  piteously  lovely  sight. 

"  No,  no, — it  is  useless  with  anything  on  your  mind. 
1  don't  suppose  she  has  slept  for  nights.  I  shan't  get  it, 
probably, — I  know  what  she  is,  and  how  those  other  two 
have  hardened  her, — but  I  shall  do  my  best."  She  spoke 
low  and  hurriedly,  under  cover  of  Felicia's  sobs,  avoiding 
his  eye  as  she  spoke.  It  struck  Charles  she  was  proposing 
to  do  the  thing  she  had  been  forbidden  to  do, — by  her 
husband. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  let  me,"  he  observed,  in  a 
superior  dry  manner. 

"  Why  ?  I  know  her, — not  well,  but  I  know  the  variety. 
I  have  had  it  before  me,"  said  Violet,  "  all  my  life.  They 
have  turned  her  out,  or  something  like  it,  I  suspect.  I 
dare  say  she  went  too  far,  if  she  was  like  this." 

"  And  may  again,"  he  appended,  preserving  his  attitude. 
There  was  a  pause,  in  which  Lisette's  sobs  were  strongly 
audible,  so  strongly  that  it  sounded  a  little  forced,  as 
though  she  were  recovering. 

"  Don't  you  trust  me?  "  said  Violet,  her  tone  uncertain : 
and  there  was  a  pause. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  you  two  ? "  gasped 
Lisette,  turning  her  dishevelled  head  on  her  bare  arm. 
"  You're  talking  about  me, — I  know.  You  fancy  all  sorts 
of  things, — and  there's  nothing.  There  isn't  anything, — 
I'm  only  sick  to  death  of  the  infernal  fools  they  are." 

"  Be  quiet — we  do  not,"  said  Violet  quietly.  "  We  fancy 
nothing  whatever,  until  we  hear, — it  is  wiser.  Do  you 
mind  his  staying,  Lisette?  He  wants  to  stay." 


68  DUKE  JONES 

"  Yes,"  she  shot.  "  I'm  sick  of  them,  I  tell  you.  Send 
him  right  away ;  you  said  you  would.  You  promised.  I've 
never  known  a  woman  fit  to  speak  to,  all  my  life.  Call 
themselves  women,  those  two ! — my  God !  " 

"  Stop  swearing,"  said  Charles  sharply,  turning  on  his 
heel.  "  Promise  to  behave  decently  and  I  may  go/' 

"  May  you  ?  "  the  girl  muttered.  "  You  will  if  she  says 
so,  jolly  fast.  What  were  you  saying  about  me,  just 
now  ?  "  Her  marvelous  eyes  fixed  Charles.  "  What  did 


you  say 


"  Nothing."    He  diverted  his  own  glance  involuntarily. 

"  What  do  you  think,  then  ?  Better  say  it  out.  Oh,  I 
know  you!  You  think  I'll  hurt  her,  don't  you?  'Cause 
she's  so  young,  and  your  property,  I  suppose."  Lisette 
gazed  at  him  mercilessly,  her  chin  on  the  back  of  the  chair 
she  was  embracing,  mischief  dawning  in  her  wide  eyes, 
tear-trimmed  as  their  lashes  yet  were.  "  Men  always 
think  that,"  she  said,  "  and  always  will.  They're  all  the 
same.  .  .  .  Well,  listen  here :  she's  not  yours, — she's 
mine  if  I  want.  She's  my  cousin, — one  of  our  lot,  any- 
how,— quite  a  nice  little  decent  thing.  .  .  .  That's 
what  I  said  to  Honoria,  when  Cousin  Eveleen's  letter 
came, — just  to  hear  her  snort.  Violet's  been  called  clever 
to  us,  smart  and  so  on,  ever  so  long  back,  so  Honoria 
can't  let  her  alone.  She's  jealous, — couldn't  bear  her  be- 
ing engaged.  She  wasn't  then  herself,  and  thought  she 
never  would  be, — old  horse!  She  said  she  supposed  it 
was  the  money,  and  she  expected  you  were  a  fool." 

Violet  laughed  easily.  "  That  was  really  a  good  effort 
for  the  brilliant  Honoria,"  she  said,  "  wasn't  it,  Lisette  ?  " 

As  she  spoke,  standing  to  the  rear  of  the  girl  and  facing 
Charles,  she  signalled  to  the  door  imperiously.  Lisette 
had  dropped  her  dishevelled  head  again.  Charles,  receiv- 
ing the  mute  command,  strode  to  the  door,  and  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  went  through  it  and  shut  it  behind 
him. 

It  came  home  to  him,  perhaps,  that  he  was  a  fool,  com- 


LISETTE  69 

pared  with  Violet,  at  this  work  of  dealing  with  tortured 
souls.  She  had  the  noble  gift  from  the  other  "  lot," — not 
Lisette's, — from  the  great  physician  her  father,  and  be- 
hind him  generations  of  courageous  thoughtful  men. 
From  the  Ingestre  "  lot "  she  had  singularly  little :  external 
details  merely, — finishing  touches  such  as  her  beautiful 
clear  skin,  a  kitten-love  of  being  petted,  warring  con- 
stantly with  the  Ashwin  shyness,— and  the  aristocratic 
manner  (Charles  laughed  ruefully  as  he  remembered  it) 
she  had  used  just  now.  For  a  thing  so  comparatively  small 
and  slight,  Violet  could  be  dignified;  she  could  face  a 
roomful  effectively  without  assistance ;  and  she  could,  at 
will,  as  he  now  recollected,  frighten  her  husband  terribly. 
Of  late  she  had  not  attempted  it,  it  was  true ;  but  he  could 
think  of  occasions  before  marriage  when  she  had  reduced 
him  in  just  that  manner ;  and  it  struck  him  that  the  power 
she  sheathed  might  very  well  also  be  the  gift  of  a  lordly 
stock:  a  stock  which,  as  in  the  case  of  this  exquisite 
Felicia,  assumed  placable  acquiescence  beforehand  in  its 
most  unreasonable  demands. 

Charles  went  below  and  walked  about  for  a  long  time 
on  the  terrace,  restively.  He  had  been  indignant,  agitated, 
and  a  little  offended  too,  and  he  needed  a  lengthy  dose  of 
the  night  air  to  cool  him  down.  He  could  not,  he  found, 
escape  thinking  of  the  strange  girl  merely  by  leaving  her 
presence :  if  only  for  the  sake  of  abusing  Lisette,  he  had 
to  think.  He  reviewed  again, — for  they  were  imprinted 
on  his  memory, — all  her  incomparable  attitudes,  tones  and 
movements  in  turn.  He  saw  well  how  beautiful  she  was, 
and  how  much  more  beautiful  she  would  be,  for  the  Inges- 
tres  were  singularly  ageless,  came  to  their  full  develop- 
ment slowly,  and  still  made  conquests  when  they  were 
grandmothers,  as  Eveleen  Ashwin  probably  would.  He 
was  well  aware  of  a  rather  resentful  admiration,  an  in- 
ner relish  withal,  careless  and  rough  such  as  that  which 
Studley  had  unwisely  expressed, — and  a  keen  curiosity  to 


7o  DUKE  JONES 

see  her  again,  different  and  perhaps  more  brilliant  yet  in 
the  sharp  insistent  light  of  day.  He  was  vexed  with  her 
intrusion,  a  good  deal  more  than  was  necessary,  or  than 
would  have  been  necessary  with  a  less  intrinsically  excit- 
ing person;  and  he  was  vexed  in  addition  that  Violet 
should  squander  her  fine  sympathy,  risk  her  fine  suscep- 
tibility, where  both  were  all  too  probably  wasted,  in  a  sec- 
ond-rate and  sordid  cause. 

But,  ridiculously  enough,  the  thing  that  haunted  Charles 
with  the  most  persistent  annoyance,  even  when  he  con- 
sidered he  had  quite  cooled  and  ordered  his  volcanic 
thoughts  that  night,  was — that  he  did  not  want  Felicia 
to  have  that  moonlight  blouse  of  Violet's,  which  he  knew 
on  Violet,  and  which  was  her,  consequently,  to  his  mas- 
culine idea, — and  startle  the  world  into  supposing  that  it 
became  her  better,  when  it  did  not !  He  shared  an  orig- 
inal instinct,  in  this  matter,  in  favor  of  the  first  possessor, 
with  Marmaduke  Jones. 

in 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  before  the  importunate  girl's 
demands  allowed  Charles  to  return  to  his  own,  and  he 
became  highly  indignant.  Violet  had  no  right,  naturally, 
to  attend  to  a  girl  in  his  despite.  It  was  his  honeymoon, 
anyhow,  and  Lisette  was  as  remote,  to  all  right-thinking 
minds,  as  a  bolt  from  another  star, — not  wanted.  When 
he  was  at  length  allowed  to  enter  his  own  room,  and  re- 
sume the  ownership  of  his  wife,  he  found  her  leaning 
against  the  mantelpiece,  a  hand  supporting  her  brow 
(ashamed  of  herself,  probably),  in  a  pose  of  languor  and 
reflection;  while  Lisette,  looking  greatly  restored  and 
extremely  lively,  not  to  say  mischievous,  lay  sidelong  in 
Charles'  own  special  chair,  his  cigarette  between  her 
white  teeth,  and  his— that  is,  his  wife's— priceless  pearl 
necklace  in  her  hands. 

"  Look  at  her,"  complained  Violet.    "  She's  taking  all 


LISETTE  71 

my  things  away,  one  by  one.  I've  nothing  to  play  with, 
Charles.  The  loss  of  the  pearls  I  can  endure, — just, — but 
I  did  want  that  smoke  so  badly.  I  was  saving  it  up  till 
the  end,  for  a  treat,  and  then  she  snatched  it  before  I  could 
touch.  Isn't  she  a  horrid  girl  ?  " 

Lisette,  at  the  charge,  laughed  low  and  delightfully. 
She  did  not  move,  or  notice  Charles,  which  annoyed  him 
the  more, — naturally.  She  was  considering  the  pearls,  in 
detail,  with  her  soft  finger-tips  and  long-lashed  eyes. 

"  I  can  supply  one  loss  at  any  rate,"  he  said,  stopping  to 
feel  in  his  pocket.  "  Catch."  He  tossed  Violet  his  ciga- 
rette-case, his  eyes  resting  the  while  on  the  delinquent, 
who  was  pouting  in  the  chair.  "  I  think  I  can  remedy  the 
other  too."  He  walked  up  to  Miss  Addenbroke,  and  said 
carelessly,  "  Thanks, — those  are  ours." 

"  They're  real,"  observed  Lisette  to  him  in  confidence, 
disregarding  the  extended  hand.  "  I  asked  her  three 
times  before  she'd  tell  me, — she's  so  rude, — but  they  are." 

"  Some  people  might  call  the  question  rude,"  said 
Charles  coolly.  "  Give  them  here." 

"  The  question  ?  Why  ?  Wouldn't  you  let  her  go  about 
in  sham  pearls?  Lots  of  people  do,  quite  smart  ones,  I 
can  tell  you." 

"  I  dare  say  you  know  all  about  it,"  said  Charles.  "  Give 
them  here." 

"  They're  not  yours,"  said  Lisette. 

"They  are,"  said  Charles, — the  snap  of  a  nursery 
quarrel. 

"  You're  cross  because  I  kept  her,"  said  Lisette.  "  I 
wouldn't  let  her  call  you  before.  I  wish  I  hadn't  at  all, 
I'm  sure.  Isn't  he  horrid,  Vi  ?  " 

"  Take  care,  dear, — he'll  break  out,"  said  Violet.  *'  He 
can't  abide  that  abbreviation." 

"  Abbreviation  ?  "  She  repeated  it  prettily,  quite  with- 
out comprehension.  "  I  don't  see  why  he's  in  a  temper," 
persisted  Lisette.  "  I  wouldn't  have  a  man  that's  always 
in  a  temper  about  me,  anyhow." 


72  DUKE  JONES 

Charles  bit  his  lip, — Violet  laughed. 

"  Let  her  alone,  Charles,"  she  said.  "  You'll  get  the 
worst  of  it.  She  has  absolutely  no  scruples  in  what  she 
says,  which  gives  her  an  unfair  advantage." 

"  You'd  better  clear  out,"  said  Charles,  turning  his 
back,  perhaps  partly  to  hide  his  face.  "  It's  late."  He 
had  never  been  as  rude  as  this  in  words  to  a  woman  before. 

"  If  you  want  to  kiss  her,  don't  mind  me,"  said  Felicia, 
demure  and  sly  as  ever,  and  still  examining  the  necklace, 
pearl  by  pearl.  "  That's  what  I  said  to  Honoria's  man, — 
who  was  redder  than  you,  and  much  stuffier  about  it. 
Perhaps  he  didn't  want  to  do  it,"  she  added  softly.  "  I 
shouldn't,  anyhow.  Great  Scott !  " 

"  Vulgar  little  beast,"  muttered  Charles,  to  ease  his 
mind.  Violet  by  the  hearth  was  still  laughing  under  her 
hand,  which  fact  particularly  Outraged  him.  He  did  not 
consider  Violet  ought  to  laugh  at  such  things,  whatever 
he  was  inclined  to  do. 

"  Don't  be  cross,"  she  said,  shifting  the  sheltering  hand 
to  glance  his  way.  "  It  is  so  hopeless.  I  am  long — long 
through  that.  .  .  .  Lisette,  isn't  it  bed-time?  Don't 
you  think  so  ?  It's  been  such  an  exhausting  day." 

"  Has  it, — for  you  ?  "  said  Felicia.  "  I've  given  her  a 
time  of  it,"— to  Charles.  "  Not  quite  so  bad  as  Honoria, 
'cause  she's  younger,  but  a  time.  I  used  awful  words. 
Once,  I  nearly  made  her  cry.  I  thought  she  was  going  to, 
but  she  didn't, — laughed  instead.  Now  she  wants  to  go 
to  bed,  naturally, — but  you  told  me  to  clear  out."  She 
threw  the  pearls  on  the  table  with  a  clash.  "  I  can't  see 
what  a  girl's  to  do,  between  you  all.  Perhaps  I'll  go." 

She  got  up,  stretching  her  lithe  limbs  deliciously.  Then 
she  laughed  of  a  sudden  at  their  faces. 

"  I'd  never  be  married,"  she  announced,  "  if  it  makes 
you  sulky  like  that.  It  looks  silly,  I  can  tell  you..  Standing 
with  his  back  turned!— Why  doesn't  he  look  at  me? 
He's  afraid,  that's  what  it  is."  She  nodded  at  Violet. 
"  Lots  of  people  are  afraid  of  me." 


LISETTE  73 

"  Who  wonders  ? "  said  Violet  beneath  her  breath, 
"  you  marvelous  thing.  Will  you  give  me  my  chain 
again,  Lisette  ?  You  snatched  it  from  me  rather  rudely, 
you  know,  just  now." 

"  Didn't  you  mean  me  to  have  it,  then?  "  said  Felicia. 
"  I  thought  that's  what  you  meant.  Oh  well,  here  goes  for 
the  present."  She  took,  carried,  and  clasped  it  about  her 
cousin's  throat,  looking  at  it  all  the  time.  "  There,"  she 
said,  with  a  final  pat.  "  That's  just  how  it  was, — biggest 
in  the  middle.  I  like  that  big  fellow,  one  of  the  best.  Has 
Cousin  Eveleen  got  one  too  ?  " 

"  No.    Heaps  of  jewels,  but  not  that." 

Felicia  whistled,  her  eyes  widening.  "  Gave  it  to  you, 
did  he? — and  left  her  out?  I  wouldn't  stand  that,  any- 
how, if  I  were  Cousin  Eveleen.  I  say, — don't  they  fight 
like  cats,  those  two  ?  Honoria  says  they  do." 

"  Honoria  does  not  know  everything,"  said  Violet 
crisply. 

"  No.  .  .  .  What's-his-name, — her  husband, — I  forget." 

"  My  mother's  husband  ?  My  father,  you  mean  ?  Ash- 
win."  " 

"  Ashwin,  oh  yes.  ...  I  wish  I  knew  him,"  said 
Lisette.  "  Would  he  give  pearls  to  me?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder — the  least,"  said  Violet,  looking 
at  her  seriously.  "  Not  the  very  least,  if  you  went  to  stay." 

"  I'd  like  to  go  to  stay  there.  I  went  once  with  Honoria ; 
for  somebody's  dance  it  was, — just  the  night.  Stodgy  old 
dance,  not  much  to  go  for, — but  it  was  a  smart  house  to 
stay  in.  ...  I  remember,"  said  Felicia  thoughtfully. 

"  So  do  I,"  Violet  assured  her.  "  So  does  my  father. 
We  were  both  on  the  premises,  you  know." 

"  Were  you  ?  "  Lisette  looked  at  her  in  her  charming 
vacant  manner.  "  I  never  remember  people  much.  It's 
people  have  to  remember  me, — see  ?  "  She  touched  the 
pearls  again.  "  Real  things,"  she  murmured  lingeringly. 
"  Everything  real  in  a  place  like  that.  That's  what  I  like, — 
Honoria  doesn't  care." 


74  DUKE  JONES 

"  You  should  have  nothing  that  is  not  perfect,"  said 
Violet.  "  Anyone  can  see  that  at  a  glance." 

"  Oh,— can  they?"  she  laughed.  "I  wish  they  did, 
anyhow."  She  turned  confidential,  being  near.  "  Father, 
— my  father, — painted  me  once  in  a  shell.  I  had  pearls, 
but  not  real  ones.  It  was  by  the  sea.  I  had  nothing 
on " 

"  Charles, — wait, — be  gentle,"  cried  Violet,  low  and 
entreatingly.  "  Too  exquisite  it  is.  Imagine,  in  a  shell ! 
How  old  were  you,  darling,  then  ?  " 

"  Six,"  said  Felicia,  very  simply.  She  had  shrunk  a 
little  from  Charles'  violent  movement  towards  her,  and 
was  holding  Violet's  arm.  "  I  was  twelve  when  he  died, 
you  know.  .  .  .  When  he  was  smashed,"  she  added, 
shrugging  curiously. 

It  was  her  last  effort  of  sincerity.  She  decided  to  go. 
She  moved  slowly, — slid,  one  might  have  said, — to  the 
door,  where  Mr.  Shovell  was  standing  markedly,  his  hand 
upon  the  latch,  ready  to  open  it.  Then  she  laughed  once 
more,  quite  involuntarily,  at  his  face. 

"  I  said  it  like  that  to  shock  you,"  she  observed.  "  About 
the  shell, — I  knew  it  would.  You're  not  so  clever  as  she 
is — . — "  And  she  went. 

"  Good  Lord ! "  said  Charles  with  fervor,  having  re- 
shut  the  door.  He  wiped  his  brow.  Then  he  laughed 
himself,  shortly, — much  as  though  his  strong  resentment 
and  natural  good-temper  met  in  an  equal  shock.  Then  he 
walked  back  to  Violet,  and  with  a  curious  manner  of  deter- 
mination, took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Sorry  I  jogged  her,"  he  remarked,  in  a  manner  not 
quite  his  own.  "  I  don't  believe  she'd  ever  have  gone 
without  it, — and  she'd  got  to  go." 

Violet  was  absent,  rather.  "  Did  you  have  a  nice  walk, 
downstairs  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Charles,  in  precisely  the  manner  of  a  per- 
son saying  "  Yes." 


LISETTE  75 

"  Isn't  it  a  nice  night?  I  thought  I  saw  a  moon.  .  .  . 
Charles!  It  occurs  to  me  I  want  to  pay  Lisette's  bill 
these  two  days:  and  I  haven't  money  enough,  really. 
You'll  have  to  fork  out,  do  you  hear?  " 

"  Don't  care  if  I  do,"  said  Charles,  carelessly  agree- 
able. He  was  holding  her  tightly,  however. 

"  Good  boy.  Now  give  me  time,  and  I'll  think  of  the 
next  thing.  There  are  heaps."  She  closed  her  eyes, 
slightly  frowning,  to  think. 

"  That  little  spitfire  has  been  tiring  you,"  said  Charles. 

"  No,  really.  She  is  only  a  little  tiring  to  the  soul, 
that  sort  of  girl.  Poor  dear,  it's  not  her  fault." 

"  Said  you  were  tired,"  returned  Charles  coolly. 
"  There's  black  under  your  eyes  at  this  minute, — there 
and  there." 

"  Nonsense.  It's  a  shadow — dye  off  the  lashes  or  some- 
thing." She  laughed,  looking  aside. 

"  I'll  try  if  it  comes  off,  shall  I  ?  "  said  Charles  oblig- 
ingly. "  Shut  your  eyes  again  tight." 

She  did,  and  he  tried.  It  did  not  come  off,  so  he  tried 
again. 

"  Behave,  please,"  said  Violet,  catching  him  by  the  tie. 
"  You  have  not  congratulated  me  on  having  such  a  pretty 
cousin." 

"  You're  a  lot  prettier,"  said  he. 

"  Charles !  Your  immortal  soul,  my  dear.  This  is  a 
question  of  fact." 

"  I'm  thinking  of  the  fact, — glaring  fact,  I  call  it."  The 
expression  of  his  eyes  bent  on  her  was  perfectly  fatuous, 
long  past  criticism  obviously. 

"  Ask  anyone  in  the  hotel  what  they  think,"  he  said — 
"  and  Jones." 

"And  if  everyone, — and  Jones, — agrees  with  me?" 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  for  'em.  It  wouldn't  change  my  opin- 
ion for  a  moment." 

Mr.  Shovell's  ensuing  remarks  were  all  silly  ones,  really 
not  worth  the  setting  down.  Violet's  replies  were  a  trifle 


76  DUKE  JONES 

cleverer,  but  not  much,  since  he  distracted  her.  Hers 
were  intended  to  be  bracing,  probably;  but  Charles  had 
lost  an  evening,  and  was  inclined  to  make  her  pay  for 
excluding  him. 

"  You  will  have  to  be  respectable  soon,"  she  reminded 
him,  resting  a  rather  nervous  hand  against  his  chest. 
"  The  day  after  to-morrow  we  shall  be  in  London : 
chokers  and  chimney-pots, — calls  and  card-cases.  Serious 
business  of  life  again.  You  will  have  to  interview 
plumbers,  probably, — and  go  to  the  office.  I  shall  have 
to  have  my  hair  done, — and  yours  cut.  Reflect ! " 

Charles  reflected,  looking  at  her  steadily. 

"  Lisette  told  me  a  lot  of  things,"  pursued  Violet  dubi- 
ously. "  It's  bothering  a  little.  I  really  want  your  opinion, 
— though  whether  it's  worth  having  to-night — What  do 
you  think  about  her,  seriously  speaking?" 

"  Her  aunt  should  have  taught  her  not  to  swear." 

"  Yes,"  Violet  agreed.  "  But  she's  better  than  she  used 
to  be — ever  so  much.  It  is  only  on  the  subject  of  Honoria 
she  lets  fly, — and  I  hardly  wonder.  When  those  two  get 
together,  brimstone  simply  sputters  out.  Nobody  ever 
stopped  them  in  youth,  you  know;  and  it's  how  they're 
made.  .  .  .  They  did  it  once  in  our  dining-room  in 
Harley  Street, — Father  was  rather  interested.  He  called 
it  an  hysterical  symptom,  and  said  they  should  have  buck- 
ets of  cold  water  at  intervals,  like  cats.  .  .  .  Mother 
laughed,  I  remember, — it's  Ingestre,  probably.  Lisette 
is  rather  like  a  cat;  I  told  her  so.  Don't  you  like  her 
when  she  wrinkles  up  her  nose  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  he  said.    "  I  didn't  notice  much." 

"  Then  you  wasted  your  opportunities " 

"  Sorry :  I  won't  any  longer,"  said  Mr.  Shovell,  very 
promptly ;  and  for  the  next  few  minutes  he  did  not. 

"  No  man  ever  treated  me  like  this  before,"  said  Mrs. 
Shovell  plaintively  at  last. 

"Didn't  they?  Quite  sure?  Not  Ford  and  the  other 
johnnies  who  used  to  admire  you  so?  " 


LISETTE  77 

"  Certainly  not.  Poor  Mr.  Ford !  You  make  me  blush, 
Charles."  She  did  blush  a  little,  and  Charles  made  her 
still  more.  She  had  to  clutch  at  his  tie  again,  and  even 
then  he  kissed  the  wrist  of  the  hand. 

"  You  are  not  behaving,"  said  Violet.  "  I  am  sorry,  but 
it  is  the  case.  You  are  not  at  all  what  I  thought  you.  I 
am  trying,  against  odds,  to  talk  sense  this  evening.  People 
always  go  to  their  husbands  for  advice.  I  have  read  that 
in  ever  so  many  books.  Even  Mother  does  at  times,  and 
she  constantly  asks  for  information.  Suppose  I  really 
needed  help  at  this  moment, — a  lot  of  good  you'd  be." 

Charles  merely  gazed  at  her,  not  quite  throttled,  and 
quite  unashamed. 

"You  behaved  a  great  deal  more  nicely  at  Ingestre 
Hall,"  said  Violet.  "  Something  like  a  gentleman,  if  I 
remember  right.  Do  you  remember  our  arrival  there, — 
ages  ago?  Oh  dear,  how  many  ages?  We  were  quite 
proper  and  dignified,  both  of  us.  I  was  dreadfully  shy, — 
and  you  were  afraid  of  me.  Just  a  little  bit,  weren't 
you?" 

Still  no  answer,  though  his  intent  eyes  smiled. 

"  Yes,  you  still  were  in  the  train,"  she  determined. 
"  But  it's  much  worse  to  suffer  from  shyness, — much. 
.  .  .  Oh,  Charles !  Suppose  we  had  remained  at  the 
Hall,  with  the  owls  at  night  in  the  terrible  old  trees, — and 
had  rain  all  the  time, — and  wind " 

"  Suppose  I  had  had  small-pox,"  interrupted  Charles, 
"  and  you  had  married  another  man." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  married  any  other, — I  think." 

"  You'd  only  have  flirted  with  'em,  eh?  " 

"  No,  I  never  flirt.  I  am  surprised  at  you,  Charles, 
saying  such  a  thing  to  my  face!  You  are  certainly  not 
yourself  this  evening.  .  .  .  But  it  has  been  nice  here, 
hasn't  it?  We  were  a  little  clever  to  come?  Nothing, 
somehow,"  said  Violet,  looking  rather  wistfully  at  the 
light,  "  can  really  spoil  it  now." 

"  I'd  chuck  her  out  if  she  did,"  said  Charles  instantly. 


78  DUKE  JONES 

"  Oh  yes,  I  should,  I  can  tell  you.    Bag  and  baggage,  on 
the  nail." 

"  She  has  no  baggage,  poor  little  thing,"  said  Violet. 
"  She  really  hasn't  anything ;  she  said  so.  She  said  I  have 
it  all.  Please  don't  be  such  a  brutal  boy,  it  hurts  my 
ears.  .  .  .  Oh,  Charles,  no !  There  are  limits,  dear- 
est, really.  A  girl  must  have  some  feature  left  her,  and 
be  able  to  mention  it  without — annoyance.  There,  calm 
down.  Talk  to  me  about  Jones,  or  anything  soothing, — 
what  you  like.  I  will  leave  Lisette  till  to-morrow, — alto- 
gether, shall  I  ?  Very  well." 

She  retired  soon  after,  and  sat  motionless  for  a  long 
time  on  her  bed  before  she  undressed.  Charles  had  never 
been  quite  like  that  before, — not  quite.  It  was  a  little 
perplexing  and  disturbing  to  her  mind,  when  they  had  set- 
tled into  steady  habits  as  she  considered, — almost  as  if  he 
had  drunk  something,  which  really  she  was  quite  certain 
he  had  not. 

She  did  not,  among  possible  elements  of  intoxication, 
in  a  quiet  domestic  atmosphere,  think  of  Felicia, — but 
that  was  because  she  was  very  sure  of  Charles.  Yet 
Lisette,  as  a  fact,  was  to  blame.  Her  presence  had  proved 
"  upsetting  "  a  trifle  to  Mr.  Shovell,  even  as  his  experi- 
enced mother-in-law  had  hinted  in  her  letter :  but  it  was 
not  in  any  way  of  which  Eveleen  Ashwin,  when  she  wrote 
those  words,  had  dreamed.  No  one,  perhaps,  would  have 
been  more  vexed  than  Lady  Ashwin,  if  she  had  been  able 
to  witness  the  exact  effects  on  Charles  that  Lisette's 
awakening  presence  had  actually  produced. 

IV 

By  the  sobering  light  of  day,  Charles  had  Felicia's  his- 
tory, such  as  it  was.  Violet  had  really  made  out  some- 
thing of  the  state  of  things  from  the  girl's  obscure  and 
broken  account,  though  she  suspected  at  various  points 


LISETTE  79 

that  she  was  being  evaded,  or  even  flatly  deceived.  Lisette 
hardly  could  speak  the  truth,  such  had  been  her  upbring- 
ing. The  whole  truth,  clearly  presented,  would  have  con- 
stituted a  mental  and  moral  effort  quite  beyond  her.  But 
she  had  the  advantage,  with  Violet,  of  not  feeling  she  was 
being  patronized  or  looked  down  upon,  both  of  which 
attitudes  made  her  take  the  offensive — with  an  Adden- 
broke,  the  intolerably  offensive — instantly.  She  was 
talking  to  a  girl  and  an  equal,  one  of  her  clan,  whom  she 
could  even  patronize  herself,  as  her  junior,  if  need  arose. 
Need  had  not  arisen ;  she  did  not  tease  much,  though  she 
tired  Violet  greatly  by  repeating  things,  or  presenting  the 
same  thing  under  different  and  incompatible  aspects. 
However,  by  putting  together  the  most  probable-sounding 
statements,  elicited  others  by  adroit  inquiry,  and  employ- 
ing her  sympathetic  fancy  to  fill  the  chinks,  she  did  arrive 
at  something  like  a  connected  story,  though  she  got  small 
reassurance  from  it  in  its  finished  form. 

The  first-hand  evidence,  as  has  been  indicated,  was  far 
too  chaotic,  passionate,  and  prejudiced,  to  be  set  down 
as  related.  Violet  herself,  having  thought  it  over  during 
the  watches  of  the  night,  summarized  it  the  next  day  for 
Charles,  always  with  cautious  reservations,  as  became  an 
Ashwin,  in  a  matter  where  the  psychology  of  the  actors 
and  reporters  went  for  so  much.  She  had  no  doubt,  at 
least,  where  to  lay  the  blame. 

"  It  is  perfectly — perfectly  mad  of  those  women,"  she 
said  hopelessly.  "  I  mean,  the  two  at  Torquay ;  mad 
whichever  way  you  look  at  it,  whether  they  are  right  in 
their  deductions  or  wrong.  The  only  way  would  have 
been  to  pet  and  pat  and  soothe  her,  very  gently,  and  pre- 
vent at  all  hazards  her  going  off  like  this  on  her  own. 
Instead  of  that,  they  have  simply  goaded  her  to  renounce 
them  dramatically, — a  beautiful,  dust-shaking  scene,  dear 
Charles, — and  now  her  pride  is  set  in  the  way  of  her 
returning.  I  doubt, — I  very  much  doubt,"  said  Violet, 
walking  about  the  room,  "  if  either  of  those  women, — • 


8o  DUKE  JONES 

even  with  unexpected  angels  to  whisper  promptings  to 
them,  like  the  goodiest  books  of  our  earliest  years, — will 
ever  get  her  back  again.  Cousin  Agnes  is  merely  a  fool, 
of  course, — but  Honoria! — oh,  I  should  like  to  tell  her 
what  I  think!" 

Charles  asked  what  the  quarrel  had  been.  Violet  tried 
to  put  it  straight  in  her  own  mind  for  him. 

"  It  was  a  sudden  idea, — which  is  the  bane  of  Felicias. 
She  thought  she  hated  her  school  at  Southampton,  which 
really  had  been  marvelously  tolerant,  if  all  she  says  about 
her  proceedings  there  is  true.  She  taught  drawing  chiefly, 
— Ledger,  her  father's  master,  taught  her  for  love, — a 
really  great  old  man;  so  she  started  right,  however  she 
has  played  with  it  since.  But  I  believe  she  is  very  clever 
at  it  when  she  likes,  and  cares  for  it  certainly.  She  liked 
the  work  with  the  girls,  but  she  imagined  she  was  being 
put  upon  about  some  trifle  quite  beneath  attention,  and 
instantly  found  she  would  like  a  change.  It  struck  her 
it  would  be  a  good  change  to  go  abroad;  and  since  she 
wanted  to  shock  her  aunt  at  all  costs,  she  proposed  Paris. 
All  that  is  very  simple,  so  far, — it  is  just  Lisette." 

"  Well?  "  said  Charles,  as  she  stopped,  her  brow  lifting 
into  its  lines  of  care. 

"  Well, — fortune  favored  her  strangely.  The  visiting 
master  for  modern  languages, — French  from  Brussels, 
she  says,  which  implies  Belgian, — told  her  of  a  post.  He 
had  a  friend  who  had  one  to  offer, — a  friend  in  Paris, 
Charles ;  just  what  she  wanted.  He  showed  her  a  printed 
paragraph  about  it  from  an  English  paper:  one  child  to 
manage,  good  conditions,  good  salary.  She  was  much 
attracted,  and  felt  worse-used  by  the  Southampton  school 
than  ever." 

"  Well  ?  "  he  queried  again,  after  an  interval. 

"  Sorry,  dear,"  she  said  quickly.  "  I  suppose  I  haven't 
finished  thinking  myself,  though  I  thought  I  had.  .  .  . 
Of  course,  you  see  the  uncertainty.  No  people  of  sense 
would  take  it  on  a  vague  recommendation  like  that. 


LISETTE  81 

Morally,  Cousin  Agnes  was  perfectly  right  to  sniff  at  her, 
and  tell  her  to  be  good  and  happy  where  she  was,  and 
Honoria  to  call  her  (as  I  suppose  she  did)  an  infernal 
fool.  My  opinion  on  the  subject,"  said  Violet,  pulling  out 
a  little  curl,  as  was  her  habit  when  distracted  in  mind,  "  is 
identical,  evidently,  with  theirs.  Lisette  should  be, — and 
she  is  one.  But  my  reason  would  have  told  me  not  to 
express  the  opinion, — but  to  flatter  Lisette, — fondle  her, — 
bribe  her  with  gold  if  necessary,  to  drop  the  idea  of  Paris, 
and  to  stay  at  home.  Yes,  even  to  drop  the  Southampton 
school,  since  she  was  feeling  melodramatic  and  oppressed 
there,  and  to  take  a  walking-tour  with  me  on  Dartmoor 
or  some  healthy  place,  if  I  had  been  her  sister,  which  I'm 
not." 

"  Which  fortunately  you  are  not,"  said  Charles,  "  since 
you  can  talk  for  two  minutes  on  end  without  offending 
decent  people." 

"  Yes,"  she  sighed.  "  Profanity  is  required,  though,  all 
the  same:  a  nice  steady  man's  profanity,  Charles.  I 
should  like  Father  to  go  down  to  Torquay,  and  swear  at 
them  a  little, — I  never  heard  him,  but  he  is  probably  good 
at  it,  since  they  all  practice  on  the  nurses, — and  force  that 
pair  of  canting  females  to  take  her  back.  But  as  it  is " 

"  Can't  you  tell  your  father?  " 

"  I  must  talk  to  Mother  first." 

"  Why,  V.  ?  "  inquired  Charles.  Turning  from  him,  she 
gripped  the  hands  she  had  clasped  behind  her. 

"Not  because  it  is  so  much  the  hardest  thing  to  do. 
I  am  not  a  Puritan  donkey  to  that  degree.  But  because — 
because  the  girls  are  Mother's  business ;  she  ought  to  do 
it.  She  would  have  a  right  to  be  offended  if  I  went  to 
Father  under  the  rose.  And  I  don't  want  to  offend  my 
Mother,  Charles,  more  than  necessary." 

"  Meaning  she'd  make  it  nasty  for  you  if  you  did." 

"  She  would,  of  course :  but  that's  not  all  I  mean."  She 
walked  about  a  little,  restlessly,  as  she  reflected.  "  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  justice, — hard  as  it  often  is  to  see.  I  am 


82  DUKE  JONES 

not  inclined  to  do  justice  to  Mother;  she  makes  Father 
suffer  so.  I  do  not  love  her — often  I  almost  hate.  But 
she  has  a  good  side, — she  is  very  strong  on  her  family, 
very  loyal  to  her  stock.  She  is  house-proud  in  that  sense, 
and  to  act  against  her  inclinations,  for  the  honor  of  her 
house,  is  the  only  way  I  can  see  her  being  unselfish.  I 
believe  she  could  not  let  Lisette,  being  an  Ingestre  grand- 
child, cut  her  throat  like  this,  or  risk  cutting  her  throat, 
if  she  heard  the  whole  case  properly  stated.  I  shall  rest 
heavily  on  that  side  of  things  when  I  see  her.  I  shall  not 
write:  letters  put  Mother  off.  It  must  be  viva  voce, — I 
think  I  can  do  it, — I  am  going  to  try ;  as  soon  as  ever  we 
arrive  to-morrow  I  shall  go  straight  and  do  it  from  the 
train.  Do  not  throw  cold  water,  darling,  or  my  nerve  will 
go.  I  have  to  plead  before  a  judge  that  doesn't  like  me, 
and  won't  ever  believe  I  am  disinterested, — and  that  is 
hard." 

Violet  had  never  before,  to  her  husband's  ears,  stated 
the  home  situation  so  openly  and  undisguisedly  as  this. 
Charles  was  more  than  a  little  interested,  especially  since 
in  the  future  it  touched  him  too. 

"  Why  should  I  throw  cold  water  ?  "  he  asked,  lazily 
amused  at  her  intensity.  "  I  am  not  the  least  inclined  to, 
I  assure  you." 

"  Because  it  is  so  deadly  important, — and  I  thought  you 
might  think  I  was  wasting  time." 

"You  don't  very  often  do  that,  ducky.  Rather  the 
other  way." 

"  Yes,  I  do,  quite  often  enough.  I  have  wasted  weeks 
of  heaven  here.  It  is  time,  quite  time,  I  found  a  war- 
path again.  Did  you  know  I  was  the  least  bit  pugna- 
cious ?  "  She  lifted  a  brow  at  him. 

"  I  could  guess  it,"  he  answered  serenely.  "  Go  on. 
Why  is  it  so  supremely  important  to  do  something  striking 
with  all  speed  ?  " 

"  Why,  because "  she  paused.  "  I  thought  you  saw. 

Didn't  I  make  that  part  clear  enough  ?  Coward !  "  She 


LISETTE  83 

bit  her  lip.  "  That  is  because  it  is  the  worryingest,  and  so 
I  shirked  it." 

"  Worry  away,"  said  Charles,  "  but  worry  aloud." 

"  Oh,"  said  Violet,  impressed.  "  What  a  nice  friendly 
way  to  put  it,  Mr.  Shovell.  Thank  you."  She  offered  him 
a  finger,  which  she  then  withdrew.  "  What  on  earth  am 
I  to  say  about  it  ?  It  is  all  so  vague.  I  may  be  so  ridicu- 
lously wrong  to  feel  frightened." 

"  Frightened ?  "  he  said  quickly.    "  What  about?  " 

"  For  her.  She  is  so  very  pretty.  And  a  man  proposing 
it — just  in  the  nick  of  time  for  her.  And  the  good  sal- 
ary,— can't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Good  Lord !  "  ejaculated  Charles,  "  seeing  "  then  for 
the  first  time.  He  sat  up,  staring  at  her. 

"  I  have  no  fear,"  said  Violet,  gazing  oddly  back  at  him, 
"  about  Mother  failing  to  take  that  point  up,  promptly. 
She  will  jump  at  it,  without  a  doubt.  She  may  even  see 
it  is  strongly  advisable  for  somebody  to  take  steps.  The 
question  is,  if  she  will  act  herself.  Well  now, — Felicia  is 
coming  to  London, — to  stay,  as  she  says,  in  rooms.  She  is 
very  poor,  and  hates  rooms  in  that  sense,  and  she  loves 
luxury  and  lovely  things.  Mother  can  easily  take  her  in, 
at  least  till  she  has  investigated  the  post  proposed.  It's 
nonsense  her  saying  she  can't.  Mother  can't  pretend  she 
has  not  a  place  for  Lisette  now  I  am  gone.  It  strikes  me 
as  an  obvious  first  step  on  her  part, — doesn't  it  you, 
Charles?" 

"  Am  I  to  encourage?  "  inquired  Mr.  Shovell.    "  Yes." 

"  It  is  a  bribe  to  Felicia,"  proceeded  Violet.  "  She  wants 
to  be  invited  by  Mother, — you  heard.  Our  house  is  a  par- 
ticularly nice  one,  with  two  motors ;  and  the  food  is  good." 

"  But  won't  Lady  Ashwin  and  Miss  Addenbroke  quarrel 
instantly  ? "  asked  Charles,  "  and  bring  the  house  about 
your  father's  ears  ?  " 

"  Instantly,"  said  Violet  earnestly.  "  I  rather  count  upon 
that.  They  will  keep  one  another  up  to  the  mark.  It 
will  distract  both  their  attentions  from  other  things. 


84  DUKE  JONES 

Mother  may  easily  be  bored  by  this  time,  always  going 
out  alone,  and  Ingestres  understand  one  another's  natures. 
You  remember  their  righting  amused  Mother  before.  I 
never  succeeded  in  amusing  Mother,"  said  Violet,  "  but  I 
think  Felicia  may.  And  Father  will  like  a  third  at  dinner 
for  a  change,  and  someone  deliciously  nice  to  look  at, 
like  Lisette.  He  appreciates  that  immensely.  I  am  not 
jealous  of  Lisette,  talking  to  Father  at  dinner  instead  of 
me,  the  least." 

"  That's  what  I  was  noticing,"  said  Charles, "  with  some 
surprise.  It's  an  awfully  nice  plan,  darling,  quite  worthy 
of  you.  Will  it  work?" 

"  Probably  not,"  said  Violet.  "  But  you  are  not  dis- 
couraging me,  only  sitting  by  in  approbation  while  I  talk. 
.  .  .  We  couldn't  have  Lisette,  dear,  could  we  ?  "  It 
was  the  lightest,  oddest  little  suggestion,  tacked  on  to  the 
other  well-elaborated  proposal. 

"  No,"  thundered  Charles  without  warning. 

"  Very  well, — be  calm.  I  said  we  couldn't,  and  there 
isn't  a  room.  The  workmen  haven't  nearly  done,  since 
Mother  has  been  looking  after  them.  They  saw  by 
Mother's  eye  that  they  needn't  really  get  my  house  ready 
in  time,  whatever  Father  said  about  the  matter.  I  quite 
expected  it,  and  I  am  quite  prepared.  Disgustingly  un- 
comfortable you  will  be,"  said  Violet,  her  affectionate  eyes 
on  Charles.  "  Nothing  particular  to  eat,  and  hammering 
everywhere  for  weeks."  She  had  abandoned  Felicia's 
affair  for  a  moment  at  a  temptation  which  brides  may  ex- 
cuse. 

"  Don't  let's  go  home,"  said  Charles,  with  a  bright 
thought. 

"  We  must,  because  I  have  packed  the  books,"  said 
Violet.  "  I  spent  a  lot  of  time  over  it,  and  my  time  is  never 
wasted.  Besides,  I  have  got  to  chaperon  Lisette." 

"  You  mean  we're  taking  her  with  us  ?  "  said  Charles, 
with  the  emphasis  of  disgust. 

"  We  are,  and  you  are  paying  for  her  ticket.    She  hasn't 


LISETTE  85 

got  a  sou,  that  girl,"  said  Violet.  "  That  is  the  other  horrid 
complication.  Honoria  offered  her  her  journey-money,  it 
appears,  and  she  threw  it  at  her  head.  She  would,  of 
course — I  quite  believe  it.  She  has  nothing  but  her  last 
term's  salary,  and  she  won't  tell  me  how  much  that  is." 

"  Well,  your  mother  will  rise  to  that,  won't  she?  "  said 
Charles.  "  You  said  she  did  before." 

"  Yes,  in  all  probability  she  will.  If  she  goes,  she  must 
have  money,"  declared  Violet.  "At  the  worst,  I  shall 
insist  on  that." 

"'  Have  you  seen  the  correspondence  ?  "  Charles  asked 
presently.  He  observed  Violet  seemed  to  take  the  thing 
to  heart,  and  he  was  pleasant  as  usual. 

"  No, — and  she  won't  give  up  the  address,  or  even  the 
advertisement,  though  she  declares  she  has  both,  and 
letters.  .  .  .  She  may  to  Mother,"  said  Violet,  her 
sensitive  brows  working. 

"  When  does  the  new  salary  start — in  October  ?  " 

"  In  August,"  said  Violet,  looking  down. 

"  Oh,  that's  not  so  long  to  tide  over,"  said  Charles  cheer- 
fully. She  rather  wondered  if  he  took  the  point  of  the 
extreme  unlikelihood  of  a  good  post  falling  vacant  in 
August,  in  Paris.  But  she  said  no  more  to  him  then,  think- 
ing perhaps  he  had  been  instructed  sufficiently  in  Felicia's 
private  affairs.  She  had  given  him  at  least  a  dose  of  facts, 
and  stored  the  comments  for  her  mother.  She  had  not 
mentioned  to  Lisette  that  she  would  confide  in  him,  but 
she  nursed  a  curious  conviction  that  Lisette,  for  all  her 
impudent  remarks,  knew  the  terms  they  were  on  together 
well  enough.  It  was  the  kind  of  thing  her  eager  animal 
senses  and  beautiful  vacant  eyes  grasped  straightway, 
without  the  need  of  argument  or  attention. 

During  the  interval  of  this  conversation,  Lisette  was  out. 
She  went  out  into  the  town,  saying,  with  a  defiant  lift 
of  chin,  that  she  had  a  call  to  pay  on  some  people  her 
father  had  known  there,  who  used  to  be  decent.  She  had 


86  DUKE  JONES 

referred  several  times,  in  her  moments  of  involuntary 
confidence,  to  her  father  and  his  evidently  Bohemian 
circle,  and  her  delightful  life  among  them  as  half  play- 
thing, half  pupil;  and  as  there  was  a  considerable  artist 
colony  resident  in  this  little  coast  town,  the  excuse  seemed 
the  more  probable  to  Mrs.  Shovell's  ears,  and  she  had  not 
given  a  second  thought  to  it.  She  was  glad,  if  she  thought 
at  all,  that  Lisette  had  found  other  friends  who  might  ad- 
vise her,  for  she  had  plenty  of  business  herself  on  this  her 
last  day.  To  be  free  of  Lisette's  constant  demands,  not  to 
mention  her  distracting  personality,  was  rather  a  blessing. 
Violet  did  all  her  own  packing,  and  most  of  her  husband's ; 
and  then,  late  in  the  morning,  having  certain  farewells  to 
make  and  presents  to  buy,  she  went  down  herself  to  the 
lower  town.  Thence  she  diverted  to  the  shore,  for  she  had 
abstracted  a  really  disgraceful  cap  of  Charles',  which  she 
intended  to  bury  in  his  absence  to  avoid  all  possibility  of 
his  insisting  on  wearing  it  again. 

Having  accomplished  the  obsequies  with  her  usual  neat 
decision,  she  looked  up,  and  discovered  she  was  being  ob- 
served by  a  casual  gentleman  of  an  ordinary  appearance ; 
who,  on  a  second  look,  discovered  himself  to  be  Marma- 
duke  Jones.  As  Mr.  Jones  liked  a  joke,  Violet  shared  the 
mild  joke  of  Charles'  buried  cap  with  him ;  and  then,  since 
it  occurred  to  her  she  had  not  seen  much  of  him  lately,  she 
let  him  walk  beside  her  on  the  beach  a  little,  and  talk; 
or  rather,  as  usual,  she  talked  to  him. 

"  We  shall  be  sorry  to  go,"  said  Violet, — and  common- 
place remarks  like  that.  Not  having  Charles  at  hand  to 
stimulate  her,  she  sank  to  Jones'  level,  and  let  her  con- 
versational credit  slide. 

"  I've  got  to  go  to  London  too,"  said  Jones,  when  several 
nothings  had  been  exchanged. 

"  Without  prejudice,  I  hope,  to  Paris  later  on,"  said 
Violet. 

"Oh,  I  shall  get  there,  I  expect,"  he  said,  his  look  soften- 
ing. "  It's  only  bits  of  things  I  have  to  do, — rather  a  slack 


LISETTE  87 

time.  Later  on,  I  could  get  a  fellow  to  take  my  job,  if 
necessary."  Except  through  Charles,  Violet  knew  noth- 
ing about  his  charitable  interests.  He  had  not  talked  to  her 
about  the  "  show  "  for  reasons  she  suspected.  It  was  con- 
cerned with  things  too  sad  and  serious,  in  Jones'  view, 
to  be  forced  on  the  notice  of  the  youth,  innocence  and 
ease  she  represented.  Marmaduke's  conception  of  young 
womanhood, — ladyhood  rather, — was  as  ordinary  as  the 
rest  of  him,  or  had  been  hitherto.  Certain  phrases  Violet 
had  dropped  had  shaken  it  a  little.  But  as  he  had  little 
hope  of  knowing  her,  he  had  hardly  allowed  himself  to 
be  curious.  He  simply,  in  his  unassuming  manner,  en- 
joyed her  society. 

After  another  pleasant  period  of  nothings : 

"  I  hope  you  didn't  mind  my  friend  last  night,"  said  Mrs. 
Shovell.  "  She  is  rather  sudden,  but  she  means  no  harm. 
She  is  really  a  most  interesting  girl." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Jones,  at  once  cast  down.  Presently  he 
ventured — "  Is  she  staying  long?  " 

Violet  told  him.  "  She  leaves  when  we  do, — comes  with 
us  to  London.  I  am  escorting  her,  you  know."  She  smiled 
demurely,  as  such  a  newly-established  chaperon  should. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Jones  again,  accepting  it.  He  did  not 
smile,  however.  "  She's  alone  then,  is  she  ?  "  He  thought 
of  venturing  on  the  title,  and  decided  not. 

"  Very  much  alone.    Had  you  doubted  it  ?  " 

The  young  man  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  As  she 
turned  her  eyes  to  him,  he  blushed,  quite  visibly. 

"  I  thought  there  might  be  someone  with  her,"  he  said 
awkwardly ;  "  that's  all." 

Violet  waited,  weighing  him.  He  was  looking  straight 
in  front  of  him  along  the  beach.  He  had  a  colorless  man- 
ner, as  Charles  said,  but  not  enough  so  to  disguise  the  dis- 
comfort he  felt. 

"  Had  you  seen  her  with  anybody  ?  "  she  asked  mildly. 

"  Oh, — I  suppose  she  had  picked  up  a  friend." 

"  Down  here  ?    This  morning  ?  "    He  nodded  to  each 


88  DUKE  JONES 

before  she  added, "  Man  or  woman  ?  "  But  she  knew  what 
the  answer  would  be  before  he  spoke.  It  seemed  so 
extraordinarily  unlikely,  on  the  face  of  things,  that  Lisette 
Addenbroke  would  pick  up  a  lady  friend  on  the  beach. 

"  She  knows  some  friends  of  her  father's  here,"  said 
Violet,  in  duty  bound. 

He  assented  in  exactly  the  same  formula  as  before. 
Natural  sincerity,  and  an  almost  panic-stricken  wish  to 
reassure  her,  were  striving  in  every  phrase  he  uttered.  He 
would  have  given  much,  now  that  they  had  been  pro- 
duced, to  sweep  away  those  little  lines  of  apprehension 
from  her  brow.  It  was  too  young  a  brow,  he  thought,  to 
bear  them.  He  hated  himself  when  he  saw  them  there ; 
but  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  do  otherwise.  When  two 
sincere  spirits  meet;  there  is  little  hope  of  trifling  between 
them. 

They  pursued  their  way  in  silence,  he  hardly  daring  to 
do  more  than  glance  at  her  from  time  to  time,  seek  for 
impossible  subjects  of  diversion,  the  first  word  of  which 
would  not  pass  his  lips,  and  reproach  himself  for  clouding 
her  last  day  amid  such  scenes.  He  looked  far  more  at  the 
familiar  view  than  at  her,  but  he  knew  every  detail  about 
her  notwithstanding.  He  even  noticed  how,  absent  and 
pensive  as  she  was,  she  avoided  the  sand-castles  and  sand- 
gardens  of  innumerable  children,  with  exquisite  care,  in 
walking;  for  they  were  on  the  more  populous  portion  of 
the  beach  to-day.  Jones  would  have  known  before- 
hand she  would  do  that, — a  person  so  naturally  respectful 
to  all  forms  of  thought,  however  unfinished,  in  others. 
Her  own,  he  had  no  doubt,  were  finished  as  admirably  as 
herself. 

Impressions,  rather  than  thoughts,  flashed  through 
Violet's  mind,  one  after  another,  concerning  this  phantom 
stranger  and  Lisette.  She  had,  of  course,  to  be  prepared 
for  lying  at  any  point;  that,  in  dealing  with  an  Adden- 
broke, she  recognized.  The  girl's  excuse  of  acquaintance 
in  the  town  might  be  true  or  false, — Mr.  Jones  evidently 


LISETTE  89 

thought  the  latter.  Why  ? — The  why  must  wait.  For  the 
moment,  it  was  open  to  her  to  suppose  that  Lisette's 
artist-father's  friend  was  so  seedy,  flashy,  or  eccentrically- 
garbed  as  to  mislead  the  mere  "  man  in  the  street "  that 
Jones  represented — according  to  Charles.  That  consti- 
tuted the  first  group  of  Violet's  impressions, — the  pre- 
liminary. 

Next,  it  was  more  than  possible  a  quite  casual  man 
should  address  Lisette,  and  more  than  probable  she  would 
answer  him  affably  if  he  did.  Mr.  Jones,  unacquainted 
with  the  Addenbroke  psychology,  and  still  conceiving 
Lisette  as  a  lady  of  title,  would  in  this  case  pass  at  the 
wrong  moment,  and  misunderstand  the  encounter.  This 
thought  was  almost  humorous,  really:  though  Violet's 
anxious  brow  did  not  change. 

Next,  on  the  presumption  that  it  was  a  particular  man, — 
which  must  be  faced, — he  might  have  followed  her  unin- 
vited, and  she  might  know  how  to  deal  with  him  if  he  did. 
Probably  Lisette  had  some  unexpected  talents  in  such 
situations,  and  would  be  far  less  perturbed  in  dealing  with 
unpleasant  characters  than  Violet  was  in  simply  thinking 
about  it.  This  thought  was  not  humorous,  but  it  was 
a  way  of  escape, — one  of  the  ways.  There  were  heaps  of 
chances  still,  heaps:  for  all  the  possibility  of  ill  grew 
blacker. 

Then,  at  the  point  of  stress,  she  remembered  herself  to 
have  seen  a  man  in  the  girl's  track  that  first  night, — a 
dark-looking  man,  with  an  air  her  quick  sight  and  critical 
sense  had  condemned  on  instinct  before  he  vanished  again. 
And  just  there  in  her  thoughts,  Violet  swept  aside  the 
flattering  chances,  and  turning  mentally,  looked  straight 
in  the  face  of  that  improbable  evil  for  a  minute  or  two, — 
minutes  during  which  Jones'  unseeing  eye  perceived  her 
clench  her  fine  bare  hands.  He  was  not  consciously  pro- 
jecting his  thoughts  to  her, — he  would  willingly  have 
spared  her  any  hint  of  them, — but  he  saw  the  mental  strain 
reach  its  climax  in  that  bracing  movement,  and,  more 


90  DUKE  JONES 

anxious  than  she,  he  wondered  what  was  in  store  for  him. 
As  he  wondered  Violet  turned. 

"  Mr.  Jones,"  she  said,  her  soft  tone  shaken  a  little, 
"  nothing  at  all  excuses  me  in  what  I  am  going  to  say. 
It  is  eccentric,  to  say  the  least.  I  am  ashamed  of  it  before- 
hand. Could  you,  if  quite  necessary  for  a  friend's  peace  of 
mind,  get  to  Paris  during  August — a  disgusting  month — 
instead  of  October,  a  delightful  one  ?  " 

"  A  friend  ?  "  said  Jones  surprised.  "  Oh  yes."  The 
answer  came  with  promptitude  and  simplicity. 

"  It  would  be  simply  a  case  of  charity,"  said  Violet,  her 
faint  shy  color  showing,  though  she  looked  at  him  frankly ; 
"  serving  your  neighbor.  I  know  you  are  very  good  at 
that,  through  Charles." 

"  Neighbor?  "  he  queried.  It  seemed  to  express  less  to 
him  than  "  friend." 

"  Neighbor  through  the  wall,"  said  Violet ;  "  and  on  a 
balcony  with  a  particularly  heavenly  view.  And  neighbor 
at  table  for  a  fortnight,"  she  added  smiling,  "  except  last 
night." 

"  For  you  ?  "  said  Jones  quickly. 

"  For  me.  It  is  wild  to  propose  it ;  especially  here  and 
now,  and  I  cannot  think  my  husband  would  approve  of 
my  impetuosity.  Charles  says  I  am  impetuous.  But  I 
inherit  it  from  a  violently  hasty  father,  if  I  may  offer  that 
as  an  excuse.  It  may  be  the  last  time  I  shall  see  you  in 
private, — and  it  is  not  a  thing  that  bears  much  talking, 
anyhow.  It  is  all  in  the  air, — absurd,  very  likely.  But  I 
have  to  think  of  the  worst  that  can  be.  It  is  better, 
in  life."  She  looked  past  him,  out  to  sea,  her  delicate 
throat  working. 

"  It's  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side,"  Jones  translated 
mechanically,  marveling  at  her.  She  had  evidently 
reached  his  point  of  speculation, — must  have  done  so  in 
that  short  time.  That  was  what  she  termed  impetuosity, 
doubtless ;  that  hawk-like  flight  of  thought. 

"  Only  I  do  apologize,"  added  Violet  with  fervor,  turn- 
ing, "  in  this  instance." 


LISETTE  91 

"  Don't,  please,"  said  Jones,  perturbed.  "Of  course, 
I'll  do  anything  I  can:  that's  what  I'm  good  for.  I've 
nothing  to  keep  me,  really, — nothing  that  can't  be  shelved. 
I  only  pick  up  things, — anything  going, — that's  the  way  I 
live.  One  thing's  as  good  as  another." 

Having  tried  this  half-dozen  of  little  phrases,  and  find- 
ing that  none  of  the  common  idioms  satisfied  his  feelings 
in  the  least,  he  snatched  at  facts. 

"  August  can  be  managed,  anyhow,"  he  said  with  de- 
cision. "What  date?" 

"  I  should  have  to  let  you  know.  Could  you  really  get 
off  again  in  August  ?  How  wonderful  of  you.  Will  you 
give  me  your  address  ?  " 

He  wrote  it  on  his  card,  stopping  an  instant  on  the 
strand.  She  stopped  too  at  his  side.  He  longed  as  he 
wrote  to  step  further  into  intimacy,  to  tell  her  that  he 
knew  her  father's  name, — Shovell  had  evidently  not  men- 
tioned that, — anything  to  calm  the  childish  agitation  at 
doing  an  unheard-of  thing  that  he  perceived.  But  he  was 
unable  to  summon  further  courage  than  was  necessary  to 
meet  and  satisfy  her  demands  as  a  matter  of  course,  pre- 
serving his  most  ordinary  aspect  to  reassure  her :  as  though 
such  as  she  asked  these  things  of  Joneses  every  day. 
That  he  could  do,  and  he  did. 

"  May  I  explain  later?  "  she  asked  shyly.  "  And  will 
you  take  it  from  me  I  will  not  bother  you  unless  I  really 
must?  I  trust — I  do  trust — I  shall  not  have  to.  I  am 
probably  fussing  like  a  fool  about  it, — women  do." 

"  But  you'll  write  ?  "  said  Jones.  Whether  or  no  she  had 
to,  he  meant. 

"  I  will — or  Charles,  I  promise.  We  shall  not  spare  you 
directions,  if  you  undertake  our  affairs,  you  may  be  sure. 
We  both  love  words  so  much.  You  have  suffered  from 
that,  haven't  you  ?  "  She  laughed  a  little  to  his  face,  which 
seemed  vaguely  disappointed. 

After  an  interval,  as  he  did  not  speak — "  Perhaps  you 
will  come  and  see  me,"  she  added  in  pure  kindness,  "  some 
time  or  other,  in  town." 


92  DUKE  JONES 

Jones'  face  cleared  again  a  little,  but  he  explained  he 
did  not  live  in  town.  He  lived  down  in  Surrey, — the 
Leatherhead  district, — and  only  came  up  to  his  office 
three  times  in  the  week. 

"  Well,  one  of  those  times,"  said  Violet.  "  After  lunch- 
eon ;  will  you  try  ?  Unless  I  go  to  lunch  with  Charles,  I 
shall  be  lonely.  He  told  you,  didn't  he,  where  we  live  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  mentioned  it,"  said  Jones. 

"  You  see,"  she  said,  seeking  to  make  him  easier,  as  they 
walked  slowly  on  again,  "  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  want  to  lose 
anything  belonging  to  all  this."  Her  eyes  traveled  past 
him  to  the  sea  again.  "  It  has  been  an  ordinary  summer 
holiday  to  you  and  the  rest, — to  us  it  has  been  different. 
You  can  afford  to  forget  it,  having  others  of  the  same 
kind  to  come,  I  hope.  But  ours — Charles'  and  mine — will 
never  come  again." 

She  renounced  her  lease  of  the  perfect  paradise  with 
that  steady  look  past  him,  had  he  been  able  to  read.  He 
did  not  reach  so  far,  he  merely  rose  to  the  sentiment  of  the 
words  with  a  nod  and  his  pleasant  ordinary  smile.  Jones, 
just  past  the  barrier  of  the  thirties,  could  look  on  the  little 
lovers'  paradise  with  benevolence,  and  what  is  more,  with 
generosity.  It  had  been  a  perfectly  genuine  daily  joy  to 
him  to  see  her  happiness. 

"You  have  been  really  fearfully  kind,"  said  Violet, 
after  a  pause  of  wondering  what  next  to  say.  "  We  should 
not  have  seen  half  what  we  have  without  your  help.  You 
have  made  about  half  our  memories,  Mr.  Jones." 

He  murmured  something  which  he  trusted  would  fill 
the  pause.  Mrs.  Shovell's  way  of  talking  always  charmed 
him,  particularly  the  way  she  spared  him  any  but  the 
most  obvious  responses.  If  he  did  not  answer,  she  went 
straight  on.  • 

"  I  suppose  you  will  be  motoring  home,  won't  you  ?  " 
she  proceeded.  Any  of  Jones'  girls  at  the  hotel  would 
have  thought  she  was  "  fishing "  by  the  question :  but 
Jones  would  have  gratified  his  girls,  for  he  did  not "  rise," 


LISETTE  93 

or  propose  instantly  to  drive  the  party  of  three  to  London, 
the  following  day,  in  his  car.  It  seemed  he  was  send- 
ing the  motor  by  the  man,  and  returning  himself  to 
London  in  the  train, — he  had  not  yet  settled  which  train. 
Perhaps  he  had  not  looked  it  up, — or  made  sufficient 
inquiries. 

However,  before  he  could  even  start  on  preliminary 
inquiries  with  the  lady  at  his  side,  she  was  suddenly  over- 
come by  the  recollection  of  a  serious  omission  in  her 
morning's  errands,  which  had  instantly  to  be  remedied. 
She  had  cream  to  order, — pounds  of  cream, — to  satisfy 
her  voracious  relatives  at  home.  Not  that  they  had  asked 
for  it,  Mr.  Jones  should  understand,  but  people  always 
expected  such  attentions  when  their  friends  traveled  in 
the  West  country,  and  almost  invariably  liked  cream  best, 
and  quite  invariably  looked  it  in  the  mouth  to  see  if  it  was 
fresh  on  arrival.  She  explained  all  this  in  a  flight  of 
words  to  Jones,  and  went,  also  in  a  flight,  and  an  ex- 
tremely youthful  one,  up  the  slope  of  shallow  steps  to  the 
Parade.  All  the  languor  and  vagueness  that  had  been 
marked  on  her  arrival  in  that  health  resort  had  vanished, 
and  her  activity  of  body  and  buoyancy  of  mind  were 
equally — and,  to  the  spinsters,  shamelessly — exhibited. 

"  Twenty  and  a  largish  half,"  Jones  remembered  as  he 
looked  after  her,  slowly  lighting  a  cigarette,  before  he  pro- 
ceeded to  turn  over  some  of  the  startling  elements  in  their 
late  conversation.  It  certainly  was  not  extremely  old. 


Nothing  remarkable  occurred  on  the  journey  to  London, 
until  quite  the  end :  except,  of  course,  Mr.  Jones  turning 
up  in  his  car  at  the  junction,  and  having  finally  decided 
upon  that  train, — which  was  delightful.  They  had  half 
an  hour  at  the  junction,  which  was,  however,  a  beautiful 
place  to  wait :  and  Charles  and  Miss  Addenbroke  had  been 
fighting  all  the  way.  So  Violet  explained  to  Jones,  when 


94  DUKE  JONES 

he  joined  her  in  a  bay  of  the  platform,  where  she  was  sit- 
ting alone.  The  general  result  of  these  conditions  seemed 
to  be  that  she  had  accepted  all  Charles'  most  cherished 
possessions  on  her  knee,  and  sat  nursing  them  pensively, 
while  the  other  two  finished  their  quarrel  in  peace,  out  of 
her  hearing. 

Violet  was  conscious  of  an  inclination  to  sit  alone  to-day, 
and  could  have  dispensed  with  Jones'  society,  though  she 
showed  no  sign  of  objecting  to  it.  She  was  in  a  mood  for 
solitude,  partly  because  she  had  not  yet  finished  thinking, 
partly  because  she  was  frankly  nervous  of  the  prospective 
interview  with  her  mother.  Charles  had  noticed  her  state 
of  mind,  but  beyond  saving  her  all  trouble  at  departure 
and  on  the  road,  he  did  not  tease  her  with  inquiry,  and 
spent  his  ingenuity  in  distracting  Felicia's  attention :  which 
could  be  most  readily  done  by  contradicting  her.  The 
dialogue  during  the  first  hour  of  the  journey  had  a  nurs- 
ery flavor, — the  flavor  of  a  fractious  nursery, — in  conse- 
quence. In  the  process,  Charles  and  Lisette  became  rapidly 
better  friends :  and  their  snapping  was  broken  from  time 
to  time  by  bursts  of  involuntary  laughter,  at  least  on  the 
part  of  the  gentleman. 

Jones,  having  interviewed  his  chauffeur,  and  handed 
over  the  car  and  all  his  luggage  to  his  charge,  was  able  to 
sit  by  Mrs.  Shovell  with  free  hands  and  mind  at  ease :  a 
most  enviable  state  to  a  lady  so  loaded  with  the  burdens, 
tangible  and  otherwise,  of  her  party.  Down  the  vista  of 
the  country  platform,  her  friend  and  her  husband  were 
happily  engaged,  face  to  face,  with  their  noses  rather  near 
together,  and  their  hands  behind. 

"  She  objects  to  being  looked  after,"  Violet  explained 
this  attitude.  "  I  have  quite  resigned  my  pretensions,  at 
the  earliest  stage,  being  chaffed  really  to  rags.  He  will 
not.  He  and  I  are  separating  at  Paddington — not  for  good 
— and  he  wants  her  to  let  him  drive  her  to  her  place.  He 
wants  to  look  at  it,  you  know :  and  since  he  acted  rather 
badly,  she  was  on  to  him.  I  think  he  had  better  leave  it 


LISETTE  95 

now,  and  let  her  go  to  her  boarding-house  for  to-night. 
I  hope  to  fetch  her  home  to-morrow.  I  have  the  address, 
and  it  looks  quite  a  nice  one."  She  handed  the  address  to 
her  companion  as  she  spoke. 

"  That's  all  right,"  he  said,  handing  it  back.  "  I  know 
the  place." 

"  Oh,  how  nice  of  you,"  said  Violet.  "  Thanks.  Shall  I 
go  and  stop  them  now,  before  she  quite  boxes  his  ears? 
Charles  would  never  forgive  that,  you  know,  because  he 
thinks  so  much  of  his  position  with  the  porters." 

"  Oh,  I  shouldn't  bother,"  said  Jones,  glancing  passingly 
at  the  pair.  "  He's  laughing  now." 

"  Lisette  is  funny  at  times,"  said  Violet,  and  settled  back 
on  her  seat.  Since  she  seemed  to  wish  to  be  silent,  Jones 
was  silent  too. 

"  The  train's  late,  isn't  it?  "  she  said  presently,  stirring 
from  her  dream. 

"  Not  signaled  yet,"  said  Jones.  "  This  one's  often  late. 
Shall  I  put  those  down?"  He  alluded  to  the  un- 
gainly collection  of  properties  upon  her  knee.  Her 
arms  were  clasped  about  her  knees,  as  though  protecting 
them. 

"  They  are  so  fearfully  precious,"  said  Violet,  looking 
them  thoughtfully  over,  without  unclasping  her  hands. 
"  There's  my  myrtle  cutting :  and  Charles'  best  stick,  and 
his  worst  cap,  the  same  I  buried  yesterday,  which  he 
resurrected  this  morning:  not  the  least  that  he  could 
wear  it  now,  but  to  be  a  lesson  to  me :  it  certainly  will  be 
one.  And  there's  the  cream,  more  precious  than  words ; 
and  the  only  one  of  his  sea-anemones  that  didn't  die 
horribly,  which  he  is  taking  for  his  step-sister's  husband's 
aquarium,  if  it  will  be  kind  enough  to  survive  in  a  pickle- 
jar,  which  it  won't " 

"  Well,"  said  Jones,  who  found  the  list,  in  combination 
with  her  abstracted  face  and  mechanical  tone,  amusing. 

"  I  think  that's  all :  except  my  pearls ;  which  hardly 
signify, — being  false,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell  sadly. 


96  DUKE  JONES 

"  I — say !  "  exclaimed  Jones. 

"  Well,  haven't  a  dozen  people  told  you  so,  in  confidence, 
since  we  came  ?  " 

"  That's  not  what  I  mean,"  he  said,  coloring  slightly. 
"  What  I  mean  is, — it's  beastly  cheek  of  me,  Mrs.  Shovell, 
— wouldn't  they  be  better  on?  " 

"  On  ?  "  said  Violet,  wondering.  "  On  me  ? — Oh,  do  you 
think  I  am  careless  of  my  treasures,  Mr.  Jones?  " 

"  It's  beastly  cheek,"  he  repeated  doggedly.  "  But  real- 
ly, I  often  wondered  why  you  showed  them,  in  a  place  like 
that.  Mixed  lot  of  people — public  rooms — it's  not  safe." 
He  seemed  really  to  be  repeating  a  conviction.  "  You 
couldn't  feel  safe,"  he  concluded. 

"  But  I  did !  "  she  cried.  "  That  was  why."  As  he  did 
not  speak,  looking  puzzled,  she  resolved  to  explain.  "  It's 
rather  childish,"  she  admitted,  "  when  I  think.  But  it 
was  so  odd  your  saying  that,  I  suppose  it  brought  the 
truth  out  unaware.  That  was  why  I  brought  them  with 
me,  for  safety, — mine,  not  theirs.  Because  I  was  plung- 
ing into  a  dark  unknown,  and  nervous  of  goodness  knew 
what  coming  upon  me, — it  was  security  and  home  to  feel 
them.  It  was  like  his  fingers  round  my  neck." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Jones,  in  his  usual  quiet  formula ;  but 
his  eyes  moved  down  the  platform. 

"  Not  his,"  cried  the  girl,  swift  to  catch  the  implication, 
the  color  sweeping  across  her  face.  "  Oh,  careless  that  I 
am, — how  could  you  think  itt — I  meant  my  father,  his 
protection.  I  had  never  been  cut  off  from  it  in  life  before. 
I  have  been  far,  far  too  well  cared  for,  really, — I  had 
never  thought  what  it  would  be.  His  pearls  stood  for  his 
presence  to  his  daughter's  silly  mind, — that  is  simply  all  I 
mean.  It  was  really — only  at  the  first — I  wanted  it." 

Jones  muttered  something,  probably  an  apology,  and 
there  was  a  pause.  She  was  biting  her  lip,  fighting  the 
shame  and  shyness  he  had  aroused ;  but  for  all  that  shame, 
she  had  answered  freely  and  fully:  they  were  striding 
into  intimacy  by  some  freak  of  fate.  He  was  careful  not 


LISETTE  97 

to  glance  in  her  direction  till  she  moved  suddenly,  sought 
her  keys,  unlocked  her  casket  with  rapid,  decided  hands, 
and  drew  out  the  string  he  had  seen  so  often  round  her 
neck. 

As  soon  as  she  did  so,  Marmaduke  sat  up,  and  glanced 
swiftly  along  the  platform  in  both  directions. 

"  It's  quite  all  right,"  she  said,  amused  at  his  agitation. 
"  I  am  going  to  take  your  advice,  that's  all.  It's  simply 
common-sense,  in  a  train,  if  I  had  thought.  I  expect 
motor-traveling  makes  one  careless  of  things  like  that. 
Look,"  she  added  softly. "  Do  you  care  to  see  them  near?  " 

Jones  had  seen  the  pearls  near  often  enough;  but  he 
did  not  refuse  to  see  them  again,  thus  laid  across  her 
fingers.  It  was  certainly  easier  to  examine  them  so  than 
in  the  more  conspicuous  post  they  had  occupied  nightly, 
at  the  hotel.  He  knew  something  about  pearls,  too,  as 
was  clear:  more  than  Violet  did,  for  she  confided  to  him 
that  she  had  never  been  able,  owing  to  her  father's  un- 
fortunate habit  of  being  frivolous  in  the  wrong  places,  to 
get  at  their  real  value.  She  believed  he  had  insured  them, 
that  was  all.  It  was  on  the  question  of  the  insurance  that 
she  betrayed  to  Jones  that  her  surmise  of  their  value  was 
about  half  the  sum  that  must  actually  have  been  given  for 
them:  for  they  struck  him  as  remarkable  both  in  form 
and  color,  and  admirably  matched.  He  was  only  relieved 
when  she  stopped  sifting  them  through  her  fingers,  every 
touch  of  which  wr.s  a  caress,  and  clasped  them  round  her 
neck.  Needing  both  hands  for  the  operation,  she  re- 
quested her  neighbor  to  uphold  the  erection  on  her  knee, 
which  Marmaduke  did  attentively. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  lock  it  up  again  ?  "  he  inquired 
after  a  period,  when  she  had  tucked  the  pearls  out  of 
sight  inside  her  collar,  and  resumed  the  guard  of  Charles' 
treasures. 

"  Oh  yes, — of  course,"  said  Violet.  "  Thanks.  I  am 
afraid,"  she  added  naively,  "  that  I  am  not  showing  off 
extremely  well  this  morning.  I  seem  to  need  looking  after 


98  DUKE  JONES 

even  more  than  Lisette.  It  doesn't  promise  particularly 
well  for  Charles'  future,  does  it?  " 

"  Oh,  when  you're  thinking,"  said  Jones. 

"  How  did  you  know  I  was  thinking?  "  she  demanded; 
and  added  before  he  could  reply,  "  He  would  say  it  was  no 
excuse." 

"  Your  father?  "  asked  Jones. 

"  My  father.  He  is  a  frightfully  severe  critic  in  things 
like  that.  He  never  sees  why  you  should  let  little  things 
go,  you  know,  in  turning  over  big  ones.  His  own  net  is 
big  enough — and  fine  enough — for  all." 

She  spoke  very  thoughtfully,  and  stopped  again. 

"  Little  things  "  were  her  priceless  jewels,  Jones  per- 
ceived ;  "  big  things  "  were  the  business  of  that  girl  down 
the  platform,  jesting  with  her  husband.  Jones  took  the 
liberty  to  be  convinced  that  she  was  still  tormenting  her- 
self about  that  girl,  because  of  the  direction  of  her  eyes. 
She  had  probably  been  worrying  over  that  ugly  affair  ever 
since  she  had  met  him  the  preceding  day,  and  he  had 
blurted  out,  like  the  fool  he  was,  the  suspicion  he  could 
not  conceal.  Once  more  he  longed  with  all  his  heart  to 
disabuse  her  of  the  unnatural  anxiety,  but  did  not  see  in 
conscience  how  he  could.  Each  glimpse  of  Lisette  in  the 
distance  was  enough  to  revive  it  in  himself,  and  to  revive 
the  face  and  form  of  the  man  he  had  seen  at  her  side. 
He  had  not  seen  him  since,  though  he  had  watched  with 
care ;  and  he  had  certainly  not  come  up  by  the  local  train, 
though  he  might,  of  course,  be  in  the  one  that  was  coming 
from  Penzance.  It  was  entirely, — almost  entirely, — for 
the  purpose  of  examining  that  train  in  turn  that  he  had 
dropped  his  car  at  the  junction ;  for  it  was  better,  Jones 
continued  to  consider,  to  be  "  on  the  safe  side."  And  the 
"  safe  side  "  would  not  admit  the  presence  of  a  man  like 
that  in  a  train  that  held  these  two  girls.  He  was  not 
working  on  nothing,  on  air  as  she  called  it,  had  she  known. 
On  the  business  side  of  his  life  he  had  had  sufficient  expe- 
rience of  such  men  and  their  feminine  equivalents  to  test 


LISETTE  99 

and  justify  his  first  prejudice.  He  might  be  wrong,  and 
he  wished  to  be,  but  he  refused  to  admit  his  suspicion 
was  foolish,  still  less  hers.  He  tried  to  put  trouble,  the 
trouble  she  shared,  away  from  him  during  this  interval 
of  their  solitude  together,  and  to  look  on  the  cheerful  side 
of  life;  but  though  he  found  things  to  say,  and  even 
jested,  he  could  not  turn  her  thoughts  from  it,  nor  his. 
Their  brains  were,  as  it  were,  netted  in  abstraction ;  and 
when  the  white  puff  of  distant  steam  proclaimed  the 
train's  approach  he  knew  very  well  that  he  had  failed. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  enabled  to  extract  a  special  satis- 
faction from  even  that  brief  interview, — a  point  over 
which  he  had  passed  too  carelessly  in  reckoning  out  her 
chances  of  relief.  The  satisfaction  lay  in  the  thought  of 
the  father  of  whom  she  had  spoken  with  such  a  manner 
of  innocent  devotion,  while  they  debated  over  the  pearls. 
Jones  knew  something  about  Sir  Claude  Ashwin,  one  of 
the  public  men  who  was  "  all  right "  according  to  his 
simple  phrase;  who  lent  a  hand  to  the  things  that  mat- 
tered and  made  no  fuss  about  it ;  giving  here  money  and 
there  brains  where  each  was  most  urgently  required,  and 
never  mistaking  the  different  requirements.  In  his  family 
ties,  it  seemed,  he  was  "  all  right "  as  well ;  and  it  was  no 
more  than  becoming  that  a  girl  like  this  should  have  a 
good  man  at  hand  to  guard  her — two  men,  that  is,  of 
course, — but  a  man  of  weight  as  well  as  her  light-hearted 
husband.  Two,  in  the  case,  was  not  too  many  by  any 
means. 

Not  that  Charles  was  thoughtless  of  her :  Jones  marked 
with  pleasure  his  attentions  by  the  way.  He  was  a  thor- 
oughly nice  fellow,  Shovell, — courteous  and  pleasant  to 
all.  They  all  traveled  in  one  carriage  finally,  of  course, — 
Charles  making  no  objection,  since  Lisette  already  spoiled 
the  tete-a-tete.  It  was  even  a  slight  improvement,  from 
Charles'  point  of  view,  to  have  Jones;  and  certainly,  by 
varying  the  possible  couples,  made  things  livelier.  Not 
to  mention  that  Jones  really  was  so  entirely  unobjection- 


ioo  DUKE  JONES 

able  that  a  fellow  could  even  ignore  him  completely  if 
necessary. 

A  fellow  did  so,  on  more  occasions  than  one,  and  Jones 
had  a  most  perfect  air  of  not  observing  the  private  tele- 
graph in  the  compartment.  Lisette,  who  appreciated 
rapid  change  of  scene,  chattered  like  a  magpie,  and  was 
quite  capable  of  diverting  the  whole  party  single-handed, 
when  such  was  her  good  pleasure.  It  was  a  liberal  enter- 
tainment to  look  at  her,  indeed;  and  except  during  the 
period,  after  a  large  lunch,  when  the  young  lady  went  to 
sleep,  nobody  was  dull. 

During  that  period,  they  were  quiet  of  necessity;  the 
more  quiet  by  contrast.  Charles,  having  no  companion,  or 
at  least  no  adversary  left,  collapsed  lazily.  Jones,  though 
in  doubt,  took  up  a  book,  which  for  some  time  past,  owing 
to  circumstances  of  Lisette,  he  had  not  been  allowed  to 
read  in  peace.  Reading,  it  seemed,  was  an  occupation 
Miss  Addenbroke  entirely  failed  to  sympathize  with  or 
comprehend ;  drawing  was  a  much  more  reasonable  pas- 
time, but  in  a  train,  for  obvious  causes,  drawing  is  dif- 
ficult. For  these  reasons  she  had  remained  empty-handed 
for  the  most  part,  and  insisted  on  others  doing  likewise. 

Mrs.  Shovell,  having  leant  to  tuck  a  cushion  under  the 
sleeping  girl,  took  from  her  slackened  fingers  her  half- 
smoked  cigarette,  which  threatened  to  burn  her  dress, 
and  prepared  to  finish  it  herself,  very  calmly. 

"  Only  half  a  one,"  she  murmured,  in  excuse  apparently, 
in  Charles'  direction.  "  A  pity  to  waste  good  things,  you 
know." 

Jones  also  glanced  beyond  her,  to  see  how  Shovell  took 
the  proceeding.  He  had  not  seen  her  smoke  before — 
Violet  had  been  very  moderate,  lately, — and  it  surprised 
him  a  little.  In  Miss  Lisette  he  had  taken  it  as  a  matter 
of  course. 

"  You  are  ex — ceeding,"  Charles  whispered  back.  "  I 
shall  tell  on  you  at  home.  I  shall  have  half  yours  after 
dinner, — rather." 


LISETTE 


101 


"  Pig,"  returned  his  wife  simply.  She  took  off  her  hat  at 
leisure, — it  had  a  long  soft  feather  that  was  possibly  smart, 
thought  Jones,  and  certainly  suitable,  both  to  her  and  to 
her  dignity  as  chaperon, — and  tossed  it  by  her  on  the  seat. 
Without  it  she  was  again  as  she  had  been  on  the  beach 
every  day.  She  leant  back  and  shut  her  eyes,  smoking  in 
small  quick  whiffs  that  looked  nervous  somehow.  It 
seemed  Shovell  thought  so  as  well  as  Jones. 

"  Perhaps  her  ladyship'll  be  out,"  he  murmured,  in  the 
same  private  manner,  through  his  teeth. 

"  I  made  an  appointment,"  she  returned  without  stirring 
or  opening  her  eyes ;  and  Jones  saw  him  laugh. 

"  Jones  is  shocked,"  remarked  Charles  presently.  As 
she  opened  her  eyes,  he  added :  "  Now  he's  trying  to  con- 
ceal it.  His  ideal  of  you  is  in  fragments,  really.  He  does 
so  hate  fast  women.  Perspnally,  he  has  no  vices,  have 
you,  Jones  ?  "  He  put  an  arm  round  Violet  as  he  spoke. 
"  Yes,"  he  ordained,  as  she  resisted.  "  Go  to  sleep  too, — 
good  girl.  Follow  Lisette  there, — you  know  you  had  a 
shocking  night." 

"  I  may  know,"  she  retorted.  "  You  don't,  for  obvious 
reasons, — obvious  at  the  time.  No,  I  have  not  done  smok- 
ing. Let  go,  you — nuisance !  Charles " 

After  a  short  inarticulate  parley,  conveyed  in  move- 
ments of  eyes,  and  brows,  and  lips,  she  succumbed  to 
brute  force,  calmly  and  steadily  exerted  upon  her,  and, 
settling  down  of  a  sudden  against  him,  shut  her  eyes. 
Charles  remained  immovable  utterly,  the  immovability  of 
which  strength  alone  is  capable,  his  blue  eyes  fixed  beyond 
her,  out  of  the  window,  until  he  felt  by  her  steady  breath- 
ing that  she  slept.  Then  he  looked  down,  softly  twitched 
the  remainder  of  the  cigarette  out  of  her  fingers,  and, 
tossing  it  through  the  window,  signaled  to  Jones  beyond 
to  pass  his  book. 

Yes,  Shovell  was  careful  of  her,  no  doubt  of  that;  all 
but  as  careful  and  gentle  as  man  could  desire.  Jones, 
stirring  to  pass  the  book,  saw,  without  looking,  her  atti- 


102  DUKE  JONES 

tude  of  childish  confidence  and  abandonment,  and  his 
fingers  in  her  soft  hair.  He  effaced  himself  again,  in  equal 
discretion  and  contentment  presumably,  since  wedded  hap- 
piness is  a  satisfying  thing  to  see.  He  may  even  have  been 
having  a  nap  himself  behind  his  book:  for  during  the 
hour  of  her  sleeping  there,  had  anyone  been  interested 
enough  to  notice,  he  never  turned  a  page. 

VI 

At  Paddington  Station  the  event  of  the  day,  to  which 
all  these  quite  inferior  incidents  have  been  leading  up, 
occurred.  It  was  thrilling,  though  short,  for  Violet.  She 
had  thought  out  her  arguments  to  her  mother  nicely  by 
the  time  the  train  ran  into  the  terminus,  but  this  simple 
occurrence  upset  all  her  ideas  again.  This  is  a  trick  of 
fate  frequently  noticed  by  those  who  prepare  themselves 
too  completely  in  advance  for  life's  important  junctures. 
It  is  as  though  fate  did  not  approve  of  such  skilful  fore- 
arming, and  was  jealous.  Violet  was  much  vexed  and 
disturbed :  so  much  so  that  she  did  not  even  tell  Charles, — 
at  least  till  she  had  gone  to  higher  quarters  first.  The  in- 
cidents shall  be  taken  in  order. 

There  was  the  usual  confusion  on  the  platform  on  arriv- 
ing, and  when  they  were  all  outside  the  train  they  adopted 
a  frequent  plan  of  such  parties  in  a  crowd:  one  group 
remaining  stationary  with  the  smaller  baggage,  while 
another  went  to  identify  the  large.  Jones,  being  free  of 
all  such  cares,  remained  with  the  ladies,  choosing  to  stand 
behind  their  sequestered  seat  in  order  to  riddle  the  drifting 
crowds  with  his  watchful  eye.  At  the  usual  point  when 
courtesy  demands  it,  Mrs.  Shovell  besought  him  not  to 
wait,  and  with  a  last  look  all  round  him  he  made  his  fare- 
wells. That  is,  he  said  three  words  in  one  of  his  formulse 
to  Violet,  lifted  his  hat  to  both,  and  vanished  in  the  skir- 
mishing throng. 

"  He  likes  you  best,"  remarked  Felicia,  in  her  usual 


LISETTE  103 

irresponsible  way.  "  He  never  looked  at  me  at  all  while 
he  was  speaking.  That  was  because  I  teased  him  in  the 
train." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Violet  absently.  "  Are  you  going, 
dear?  Oh,  but  do  wait  for  Charles.  He  can't  be  long." 

Charles  had  the  double  mission  of  discovering  the  boxes 
— and  the  carriage  Lady  Ashwin  had  sent,  as  the  best 
substitute  for  meeting  her  daughter  in  person.  Thus 
Violet,  all  her  various  small  belongings  arranged  around 
her,  could  not  venture  to  leave  the  post  she  held,  planted 
on  a  seat. 

"  I  shan't  wait,"  said  Felicia.  "  I  know  he  means  to 
drive  me  home  when  he's  settled  you.  I  told  him  I 
wouldn't,  and  I  do  what  I  say.  Good-bye." 

She  edged  round  behind  the  seat,  where  Jones  had 
stood,  and  from  that  point  of  vantage  put  her  soft  arms 
round  Violet's  neck. 

"  I  told  you  some  shocking  lies  last  night,"  she  mur- 
mured affectionately.  "  You  are  a  dear.  Just  tell  Honoria 
when  you  see  her  that  I  said  you  were  one.  Promise  ?  " 

She  squeezed  her  cousin.  The  intense  publicity  of  this 
dramatic  performance  was  nearly  as  good  as  privacy,  in 
fact;  for  nobody  in  the  press  of  a  station  platform, — a 
place  where  silent  dramas  are  constantly  played, — has  time 
to  heed  such  theatrical  incidents.  Besides  this,  they  were 
in  a  backwater  by  Charles'  choice, — nobody  quite  near. 

"  Silly,"  Violet  commented.  "  Be  good,  darling,  won't 
you? — and  stay  at  home  to-morrow  morning.  Either 
Mother  or  I  will  come  and  fetch  you  for  a  drive." 

"  Oh,  will  you  ?  "  said  Lisette,  evidently  pleased.  "  You 
promise  ?  " 

"  I  promise  faithfully.    Have  you  got  the  blouse?  " 

"  Of  course !  Do  you  think  I'd  leave  it  when  he  made 
such  faces,  and  it  suited  me  ?  I've  got  everything."  She 
still  squeezed,  rather  feverishly, — like  a  child  that  is  un- 
willing, all  the  same,  to  go;  that  holds,  for  protection's 
sake,  while  it  offers  love. 


104  DUKE  JONES 

"  Kiss  me  properly,"  said  Violet.  "  You're  not  polite, 
Lisette." 

"  I  don't  want  to,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh.  "  You  get 
enough  as  it  is."  She  pinched  Violet's  ear,  and  then  kissed 
her  suddenly.  "  I  say  what  I  mean,  don't  I  ?  "  she  observed 
in  triumph.  "  It's  the  only  way."  Therewith  she  slipped 
off  in  turn  amid  the  luggage-piles,  and  Violet  shook  out 
her  collar  and  put  her  hat  straight,  pensively.  She  really 
did  not  see  how  her  mother  could  help  adoring  Lisette,  if 
she  could  only  be  brought  to  look  at  her  seriously.  A 
single  drive  in  her  company  ought  to  be  quite  enough.  In 
the  sheer  charm  of  the  girl,  still  lingering  about  her,  she 
felt  reassured.  Left  solitary  on  the  seat,  her  lips  were 
smiling,  though  her  eyes  still  looked  anxiously  for  Charles. 

"  Oh,  Joliffe,"  she  said  with  real  relief,  perceiving  the 
familiar  face  of  her  father's  chauffeur  come  to  the  surface 
in  the  crowd.  "  How  are  you  ? — all  well  at  home  ?  Did 
you  see  Mr.  Charles?  Is  Lady  Ashwin  there?  All  right, 
so  long  as  I  catch  her.  These  are  Mr.  Charles'  small  things, 

— that  and  that  and  that.  I'll  keep  the  jar  and  the " 

She  broke  short,  reckoning  up  the  items.  "  Have  you  the 
little  leather  case  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Did  you  pick  it  up  ? 
The  one  with  the  initials  ?  " 

"  Yours,  Miss  ?  "  said  Joliffe,  who  knew  her  possessions 
well.  "  It  isn't  among  these." 

"  Miss !  "  laughed  Violet.  Even  while  she  laughed,  her 
quick  eyes  were  seeking  everywhere  in  vain. 

Joliffe,  shocked  at  the  breach  of  etiquette,  apologized ; 
by  the  time  he  had  done  so  she  looked  serene. 

"  Perhaps  Mr.  Charles  took  it,"  the  man  suggested. 

"  That's  it,  of  course,"  she  said  with  decision.  "  He  did, 
I  remember.  Thanks,  that  will  be  all,  then.  Go  straight 
to  the  car,  will  you  ?  Mr.  Charles  and  I  will  do  the  boxes." 

Joliffe  obeyed,  though  protesting.  Her  business  was  to 
do  nothing,  naturally,  but  sit  like  a  queen  in  the  car ;  but 
she  was  always  over-active — Miss  Violet — saving  trouble 
to  those  who  were  most  eager  to  serve  her.  From  youth 


LISETTE  105 

she  had  paid  back  the  servants,  as  it  were,  the  trouble 
her  mother  deliberately  gave.  She  was  gone  from  Joliffe's 
side  now,  before  he  could  look  round,  and  he  saw  her 
speeding  in  Charles'  direction. 

Later,  when  she  reached  the  car,  her  arm  in  her  hus- 
band's, she  was  laughing.  It  occurred  to  Joliffe,  on  seeing 
this,  since  he  knew  something  of  Mr.  Charles'  ways,  that 
he  had  stolen  her  jewel-case  for  a  joke,  that  she  had  sus- 
pected the  fact  promptly,  and  gone  off  in  a  flash  like  that 
to  charge  him  with  the  theft,  being  at  once  too  dignified 
and  too  shy  to  let  the  family  servant  see  her  husband 
tease  her.  Joliffe  was  very  nearly  right,  too,  in  this  acute 
surmise,  for  just  such  a  moment's  hope  had  crossed 
Violet's  mind.  The  only  matter  in  which  he  was  wrong 
was  that  the  hope  was  justified,  and  the  case  restored.  Her 
laughter  to  Charles'  face  was  acting,  purely.  She  turned 
his  mind  from  suspicion  by  a  jest;  and  he,  as  well  as  the 
chauffeur,  was  easily  deceived  by  her  manner  into  suppos- 
ing all  was  well. 

"  Thank  Heaven !  "  was  all  she  thought,  breathlessly, 
when  she  was  alone  in  the  familiar  carriage,  flying  home. 
Her  hand  was  pressed  against  her  throat,  where  she  could 
feel  her  own  panting  and  her  father's  pearls.  Her  thanks 
should  have  been  directed,  of  course,  to  Marmaduke 
Jones ;  but  she  forgot  the  fact,  as  people  will,  in  a  loftier 
emotion :  and  Heaven  had  the  benefit. 


io6  DUKE  JONES 

III 
THE  GODS  DISPOSE 


IN  the  interview  with  her  mother,  next  on  the  list  of  the 
day's  doings,  Violet  failed.  It  is  barely  worth  while  stat- 
ing that  she  failed  to  such  as  already  know  Lady  Ashwin, 
but  circumstances,  as  well  as  character,  were  against  her. 
The  gods,  one  might  say,  were  against  Violet:  for  dealing 
with  Lady  Ashwin  brought  one  near  to  the  immortals 
unconsciously, — which  is  not  an  exclusively  flattering 
comparison  for  such  as  can  imagine  the  task  of  meeting 
an  Olympian  in  argument. 

Yet  Violet  was  in  fault  as  well;  for  one  undoubted 
reason  of  her  failure  was  that  she  went  too  fast.  She 
did  her  best  not  to  hurry  her  mother,  for  she  knew  the 
danger;  she  interrupted  her  own  careful  array  of  facts 
constantly,  to  remark  on  passing  and  indifferent  things, 
and  answer  inconsequent  and  insignificant  diversions.  It 
was  like — most  oddly  like — her  interview  with  Lisette  in 
several  ways;  though  Lisette,  even  at  her  most  madden- 
ing, never  quite  failed  to  be  childish,  "  caline,"  or  at  least 
amusing.  Lady  Ashwin  by  force  of  familiarity  had  long 
ceased  to  amuse  her  daughter.  Further  than  this,  the 
last  incident  of  the  day,  taking  Violet  when  she  was  least 
prepared,  had  upset  her.  In  one  stroke,  to  lose  her  jewels 
and  refrain  from  all  effort  to  recover  them  were  con- 
ditions equally  against  her  nature  to  bear  serenely.  She 
was  moved:  and  the  results  of  emotion  on  the  Ashwins 
was  to  string  up  and  concentrate  their  faculties  at  fever- 
pitch.  Her  words  came  too  rapidly,  and  her  reasoning 
was  far  too  close.  It  would  have  taken  her  mother  a  week 
of  leisurely  study  really  to  take  in  her  points  in  logical 
sequence.  To  take  in  the  generous  emotions  behind  the 
argument,  she  blankly  refused  to  do.  Eveleen  could  shut 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  107 

her  will  like  an  iron  dike  against  such  warm  tides  of  feel- 
ing when  she  wished.  She  had  frequently  found  it  ad- 
visable, both  with  daughter  and  husband,  to  do  so. 

Yet  her  general  mood  was  not  disagreeable ;  rather  the 
reverse;  nor  was  she  displeased  to  see  Violet,  as  it  ap- 
peared, for  a  change.  She  was  later  returning  to  the 
house  than  the  hour  she  had  said,  of  course ;  Eveleen  was 
rarely  punctual  to  appointment,  except,  of  course,  for  the 
things  that  really  mattered.  Violet  had  not  expected  her 
to  be  so,  and  filled  the  interval,  while  she  waited  in  her 
mother's  room,  in  practicing  French  conversation  with 
the  maid.  It  was  after  six,  by  the  watch  on  her  wrist, 
when  Eveleen  actually  appeared :  and  Violet,  thinking  of 
Charles,  was  getting  anxious.  Also,  the  maid  had  men- 
tioned that  Sir  Claude  would  be  in  at  seven,  and  she 
wanted  urgently  to  catch  him  too  before  she  left.  She 
had  a  confession  for  her  father's  ear. 

"  Well?  "  said  Lady  Ashwin  pleasantly.  "  What's  the 
fuss?" 

Ashwins  invariably  fussed,  was  her  experience;  and 
Violet's  request  to  see  her  mother  privately  on  her  arrival 
from  her  wedding  journey  was  attributed  naturally  to 
some  such  cause.  Why  else  should  she  trouble  her  par- 
ents, indeed? — having  a  home  and  a  husband  to  go  to 
now:  and  a  position,  thanks  to  her  father's  extravagant 
generosity,  which  ought  to  content  anybody  and  encour- 
age independence  of  her  father's  house.  That  was  the 
bearing  of  the  question,  broadly. 

Violet  explained  what  the  fuss  was,  gradually,  as  she 
helped  her  mother  to  take  off  her  things,  and  settle  for  a 
rest  before  the  new  business  of  dressing  began.  Every- 
thing needed  was  lying  ready  to  hand,  but  since  Violet 
had  seen  fit  to  demand  the  maid's  dismissal,  she  had  nat- 
urally to  help.  She  gently  and  clearly  jogged  her  mother's 
memory  as  to  Lisette's  situation,  at  school  and  at  home ; 
as  to  her  resignation  of  her  post,  and  her  differences  with 
the  domestic  circle.  She  stated  that  the  girl  had  run 


io8  DUKE  JONES 

away  from  home,  and  then  paused;  leaving  an  interval 
for  the  newly-revised  facts  to  settle :  this  being  the  family 
way  to  treat  Eveleen,  who  could  not  follow  any  argument. 

"  Let  me  make  you  some  tea,  shall  I  ?  "  she  said,  when 
her  mother,  comfortably  clad  in  a  loose  gown,  had 
finally  disposed  herself  on  the  couch  in  an  alcove  of  the 
spacious  room. 

Lady  Ash  win  had  no  objection,  and  watched  her  while 
she  produced  the  materials  and  did  so,  with  pretty  quick 
ways,  which,  as  Eveleen  reflected  at  leisure,  Violet  had 
always  used.  It  was  vaguely  pleasant  to  be  so  served 
again,  for  the  maid,  though  deft  of  hand,  had  nearly 
always  to  be  directed.  Her  daughter's  appearance  was 
trim,  too,  as  usual, — no  one  would  have  said  she  arrived 
from  an  eight-hours'  journey.  She  had  made  no  change 
in  her  traveling-dress,  except  to  toss  her  feathered  hat 
upon  a  chair. 

"  They  cut  that  coat  nicely,"  said  Eveleen,  as  Violet 
brought  her  the  tea.  "  Goodson  has  done  nothing  decent 
for  me  since." 

"  Extenuated,  poor  man,"  said  Violet  absently.  "  I  am 
sorry,  Mother  dear.  Anyhow,  I  shall  not  trouble  him 
again  for  long." 

"  Why  has  Lisette  left  home  ?  "  said  Eveleen,  for  she 
had  got  so  far,  by  this  time,  in  the  story  successfully. 
While  she  drank  her  tea  she  picked  up  some  more  facts 
from  Violet  by  degrees. 

"  Good  gracious,  what  idiots ! "  was  her  simple  com- 
ment on  her  cousin  and  Honoria,  when  hearing  of  their 
treatment  of  the  girl.  Next,  as  Violet  had  foretold,  she 
fixed  on  the  striking  feature  of  the  Belgian  master  of 
modern  languages,  and  slowly  concentrated  forces  upon  it. 

"  He'll  go  off  with  her  now,  probably,"  she  observed, 
her  fine  eyes  on  Violet's  collar,  not  her  face.  "  I  always 
thought  that  girl  would  go  to  the  bad.  I  told  Agnes  so, 
in  my  last.  Agnes  had  no  idea  how  to  handle  her,  from 
the  first.  She  never  had  an  ounce  of  sense  in  things  like 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  109 

that."  She  added,  with  a  slight  increase  of  interest, — 
"  Why  are  you  wearing  your  pearls,  child  ?  " 

"  I  thought  it  safer  traveling,"  said  Violet.  "  He  has 
not  gone  off  with  Lisette,  Mother ;  at  least  at  present,  be- 
cause she  is  here  in  London.  I  brought  her  up  to  Lon- 
don with  me  to-day." 

"  Oh,"  said  Lady  Ashwin;  "  you  did  go  over,  then,  did 
you  ?  You  never  answered  my  letter,  but  I  supposed  you 
would  manage  it  somehow." 

"  I  did  not  go  to  her,  she  came  to  me,"  said  Violet. 
"  Such  information  as  I  have  is  first-hand  from  Lisette, 
which  saves  possible  mistake,  doesn't  it?  I  have  not  in- 
terviewed Cousin  Agnes  or  Honoria." 

"  Well,  you  wouldn't  have  gained  much,"  said  Lady 
Ashwin,  who  had  a  vast  contempt  for  her  cousin,  and  an 
absolute  dislike,  founded  on  theory  simply,  for  her 
cousin's  elder  niece.  All  the  family  Ingestre  agreed  in  dis- 
liking Honoria  heartily,  while  they  merely  shrugged  and 
laughed  over  Lisette.  Eveleen,  the  purest  of  the  Ingestre 
types,  always  reflected  a  representative  attitude  by  which 
that  noble  family  could  be  judged. 

After  this,  a  period  of  Violet's  talking  again  ensued, 
to  which  she  attended  more  or  less.  Violet  talked  on  end 
rather  tiringly,  and  was  getting  excitable,  walking  to  and 
fro.  Her  gestures  in  this  mood  were  her  father's,  which 
Eveleen  noticed,  in  passing,  as  unpromising.  Eveleen 
looked  at  her  figure,  her  slim  hands  clasped  behind,  the 
simple  fashion  of  her  hair  and  her  sun-browned  neck, 
and  tried  to  realize  the  girl  was  married — she  looked  so 
slight  and  young. 

"  How  is  Charles  ?  "  she  interrupted  suddenly. 

"  Very  well.  He  is  coming  to  fetch  me  at  half-past 
seven.  You  will  be  dressing,  won't  you?  Shall  I  send 
him  up  to  call?'? 

"  Where  do  you  propose  to  be  ?  "  said  Eveleen,  tacitly 
agreeing, — by  means  of  not  uttering  a  refusal  and  going 
on,  a  plan  which  in  its  simplicity  can  be  recommended. 


no  DUKE  JONES 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  in  the  kitchen,  probably ;  I  must  have  a 
word  with  Mason  and  the  rest."  She  did  not  mention  her 
designs  on  her  father, — she  thought  the  point  better  re- 
served, for  reasons. 

"  Mason  won't  want  you,"  observed  Lady  Ashwin. 
"  She  will  be  dishing  up.  I  can't  have  Lisette  on  the 
premises,"  she  proceeded  calmly,  as  though  her  daughter's 
earnest  pleading  five  minutes  since  had  just  reached  the 
department  of  her  brain.  "  I  should  have  thought  you 
could  see  that  for  yourself,  Violet.  I  haven't  the  time.  I 
can't  waste  it,  anyhow,  looking  after  a  girl  like  that." 

"  You  have  plenty  of  time,  Mother.  Excuse  me,  it  is 
true.  You  waste  time  only  in  making  such  absurd  state- 
ments." 

The  girl  had  stopped  short  her  perambulation,  and  was 
facing  her.  She  was  much  older, — a  woman;  Eveleen 
noted  it  at  once  when  she  took  the  trouble  to  look  her  full 
and  fairly  in  the  face  for  the  first  time.  They  were  con- 
versing, she  discovered  to  her  astonishment,  on  a  level. 
What  was  worse,  no  grain  of  that  brilliant  cleverness,  re- 
garded as  a  mere  tiresome  phenomenon  in  the  child  Violet, 
was  wanting  in  the  woman  she  must  thus  meet  face  to 
face.  She  held  her  sword, — and  Eveleen  had  let  her  own 
mediocre  faculties  rust  for  long.  It  was  extraordinarily 
disconcerting,  the  impression  made  on  her  for  the  mo- 
ment: would  be  so,  doubtless,  to  any  mother  brought 
suddenly,  by  a  single  quietly  spoken  phrase,  to  such  a 
pass. 

"  How  dare  you  ?  "  she  said  mechanically. 

"  I  must  dare.  I  don't  want  to,  really.  It  is  a  thing  to 
be  seen,  not  argued.  It  is  a  situation  that  you  recognize 
in  full,  since  you  said  Lisette  might  go  to  the  bad.  That 
phrase  was  on  your  lips, — of  your  own  relation, — a  girl, — 
a  child.  You  can't  refuse,  for  a  reason  that  is  no  reason, 
to  do  the  obvious,  only  thing.  You  will  surely  not  dare 
that.  You  must  write  to  Lisette  to-night, — no,  I  will 
write  for  you,  since  we  always  found  that  best.  Didn't 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  in 

we?  I  will  save  you  all  the  bother,  and  I  think  I  can 
make  her  come.  Mayn't  I  be  your  daughter,  for  the  mo- 
ment, and  treat  it  as  my  house  again?  You  used  to  let 
me  ask  my  own  friends  here, — and  Lisette  is  nearer  to  us 
than  a  friend." 

She  waited,  and  you  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop  in  the 
room.  Her  mother,  her  beautiful  head  sidelong  on  the 
couch,  was  watching  her  with  lazy  eyes.  They  held  little 
hope  of  kindness,  but  at  least  she  was  attending — to 
something.  Whether  the  sense  of  the  words  or  the  speaker 
of  them  was  the  question  impossible  to  solve. 

"  I  can  put  it  so  that  she  will  not  refuse,"  pleaded 
Violet.  "  She  was  jealous  of  my  happiness  and  Charles, — 
a  little ;  and  she  teased  me,  poor  little  thing ;  but  she  kissed 
me  to-night.  No  one  has  ever  tried  to  be  kind  to  her, 
Mother,  since  that  awful  crash, — and  before  that  they 
were  too  kind.  She  craves  for  the  comfort  and  flattery 
she  used  to  have;  she  worships  the  soft  life.  It  is  just 
natural  to  a  little  pussy  cat  like  Lisette.  She  would  jump 
on  to  any  cushion  offered  her,  you  know.  You  will  in- 
vite her  to  our  cushions,  won't  you,  dear  Mother,  just  for 
a  little  time  ?  Think  what  you  would  do  without  them." 

She  had  approached  quite  near  to  Eveleen,  and  paused 
again,  touching  the  silken  cushion  near  her  mother's  head 
with  a  fine  little  nervous  hand.  The  flash  of  a  ring  upon  it 
caught  Lady  Ashwin's  eye. 

"  Who  gave  you  that  ?  "  she  said,  breaking  her  silence. 

"  Mr.  Ingestre, — Cousin  John :  hadn't  you  seen  it  ?  " 
She  twisted  it  nervously.  "  I  believe  there  are  heaps  of 
my  things  you  haven't  seen.  Cousin  John  mentioned  Lis- 
ette in  his  letter  rather  anxiously.  Did  I  tell  you  he 
wrote  to  me, — very  kind  about  our  escapade.  He  wanted 
to  know  if  we  were  doing  anything  about  it, — Cousin 
Agnes  had  been  complaining  to  him  as  well.  They  all  so 
dread  a  scandal :  they  would  all  be  so  horrified  if  it  hap- 
pened,— too  late.  That  is  the  worst  of  coming  to  decisions 
slowly, — though  really,  I  don't  want  to  fuss  more  than 


ii2  DUKE  JONES 

necessary  in  life,  you  know.  But  there  are  moments  when 
you  must  fuss, — I  am  pretty  sure  Father  would  agree  with 
me,"  said  Violet. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  talk  to  your  father,"  said  Eveleen, 
"  in  this  strain  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  give  me  leave,"  said  Violet. 

"  Well,  if  you  say  a  word  to  him  of  any  such  nonsense,  I 
shall  never  speak  to  you  again.  You  can  be  sure  of  that, 
anyhow.  Do  you  intend  to  ?  " 

"  I  told  you,  Mother,"  she  said  patiently,  "  Father 
would  be  very  willing  to  have  Lisette.  He  would  prob- 
ably send  to-night." 

"  Would  he,  indeed  ?   If  you  persuaded  him,  you  mean." 

Violet  saw  that  she  had  touched  the  spring  of  an  old 
jealousy,  and  regretted  it  too  late. 

"  You  are  going  to  him,"  said  Eveleen ;  "  I  know  you. 
You  think  you  will  get  your,  way." 

"  My  way  is  yours,"  the  girl  repeated,  with  a  desperate 
clearness  that  was  almost  sharp.  "  Can  you  not  under- 
stand me  ?  That  is  why  I  have  come  to  you.  I  could  have 
gone  to  him,  couldn't  I  ?  It  was  open  to  me,  if  I  had  only 
wanted  my  way.  I  want  yours.  If  anyone  speaks  to 
Father  it  will  be  you,  not  me.  It  should  be  you." 

"  Oh, — very  well.  I  suppose  you  will  keep  your  word. 
You  are  excited,"  she  added,  still  suspicious. 

"  I  am  not."  The  girl  controlled  herself.  "  I  am  aware 
what  I  am  saying  when  I  tell  you  I  will  not  go.  I  promise 
it, — but  you  must,  and  to-night.  He  is  coming  in  at  seven 
"  She  stopped  anew,  and  bit  her  lip. 

"  Oh,  you  know  that,  do  you  ?  He  is  in  to  dinner,  for 
once ;  but  he  goes  out  again  directly  after,  and  will  be  late. 
I  don't  see  how  I  can  see  him.  You  can't  talk  of  private 
things  at  dinner,  anyhow." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Violet,  meeting  this  brilliant  argu- 
ment. "  See  him  at  seven.  I  renounce  my  time  to  you.  I 
had  wanted  to  ask  him  something,  a  point  of  business ;  but 
this  is  far  more  urgent,  naturally.  Mine  can  wait." 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  113 

"  Thanks,"  said  Lady  Ashwin.  "  That  is  really  very 
kind,  considering  it  is  my  own  husband.  But  I  have  not 
the  slightest  wish  or  intention  of  seeing  him  on  such  a 
subject.  I  shall  not  think  of  it, — nor  will  you." 

Pause  again :  Violet,  summoning  her  hope  and  courage, 
played  the  card  of  family  pride. 

"  You  said  another  thing,  Mother, — that  Cousin  Agnes 
had  failed  with  Lisette  because  she  did  not  know  how  to 
handle  her.  You  mean  you  know  yourself.  You  do, 
because  she  is  an  Ingestre,  don't  you?  I  thought  her 
curiously  like  you  in  some  ways.  I  believe  you  could  make 
her  do  what  you  wanted,  though  she  is  set  against  every- 
body else." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  I  could,"  said  Eveleen  calmly.  "  How 
did  she  strike  you  as  like  me,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

She  was  interested,  evidently,  though  the  tone  was 
contemptuous.  Violet's  card  was  not  trumped  as  yet. 
Eveleen's  egoism  was  always  awake,  however  her  better 
impulses  slept  or  drowsed.  Violet  pursued  eagerly : 

"  She  likes  the  things  that  you  like, — the  same  things 
amuse  her  and  make  her  angry, — she  is  like  you  to  look  at 
too.  She  really  is ;  Charles  noticed  it." 

"What  is  she  like?" 

"  Lisette  like  ?  But  you  know !  She  is  terribly — 
thrillingly  pretty, — just  as  you  wrote  to  me.  She  thrilled 
us  both,— all  the  hotel." 

"  Charles  admired  her,  did  he?  I  shouldn't  mind  seeing 
her,"  said  Eveleen  slowly ;  "  but  I  shan't  have  her  in  the 
house." 

"  Only  because  you  said  so  before,  Mother  darling, — not 
because  you  will  really  refuse  to  let  her  come.  She  is 
funny, — naughty,  of  course, — she  would  amuse  you.  Her 
effect  on  people  is  amusing  too, — you  could  see  it  if  you 
took  her  out.  You  needn't  say  she  is  a  little  cousin, — 
everyone  would  see  that  at  once,  and  laugh." 

It  was  exquisitely  adroit,  as  a  tack,  and  Lady  Ashwin 
was  shaken.  She  had  no  objection  to  taking  out  a  little 


ii4  DUKE  JONES 

cousin,  like  her,  who  could  be  trusted  to  make  a  stir. 
Eveleen  made  a  stir  herself,  so  the  sensation  would  be 
doubled.  She  had  once  dreamed  of  such  a  daughter  as 
Lisette ;  only  the  daughter  when  she  came,  by  taking  after 
the  Ashwins,  disappointed  her  hopes. 

"  What  are  you  after,  in  this,  Violet  ?  "  she  said  slowly. 
The  question,  to  her  mind,  rose  directly  out  of  the  rest. 

"  After?    What  should  I  be?    Only  her  safety." 

"  Safety  from  men  ?  She'll  never  be  safe  from  men — 
that  sort.  I  can  tell  you  that." 

"  Well,  Mother  dear,  she  had  better  marry  decently, 
then,  hadn't  she  ?  "  The  girl  spoke  dryly.  "  You  could 
see  to  that." 

Eveleen  thought  it  over  for  a  period.  "  I  won't,"  she 
then  said  suddenly  and  simply.  "  I  had  more  than  enough 
disturbance  marrying  you." 

One  more  pause — that  way  seemed  blocked.  The  girl 
gathered  herself  for  a  final  effort :  wherefore,  of  course, 
she  overdid  it.  She  was  too  intense,  though  every  word 
she  spoke  was  just  to  her  observation,  earnest  and  deeply 
felt. 

"  She  is  capable  of  crime,  Mother,"  said  Violet.  "  She 
is  hunted  and  miserable, — not  over  the  brink,  but  near  it. 
I  have  seen  her  eyes  these  two  days.  She  might  steal, — 
she  is  destitute.  She  might  drink, — more  easily  still.  If 
the  worst  happened,  by  any  unhappy  chance,  she  might 
kill  the  man.  It  is  not  unknown  in  your  family  history,  is 
it?  Not  quite." 

She  repeated,  with  extraordinary  vehemence  and  ac- 
curacy, to  Eveleen  who  had  the  Ingestre  chronicles  by 
heart,  more  than  one  case  of  criminal  violence  in  the  direct 
line ;  women  concerned  in  them  all.  Of  course,  romance 
had  dressed  the  stories;  duels,  prophecies,  specters  and 
such  truck  bedizened  them  elaborately,  when  related 
within  the  ring;  but  the  naked  facts  of  character  were 
there,  and  it  was  astonishing  how  the  facts  stood  out,  dealt 
with  by  the  girl's  dexterous  dry  tongue.  They  hardly 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  115 

sounded  picturesque,  so  stated,  and  more  than  once 
Eveleen  winced. 

"  Anything  may  happen,"  Violet  finished,  "  may  it  not, 
to  a  girl  with  that  blood  in  her?  You  must  see — anything. 
And  you  are  responsible:  it  will  be  laid  at  your  door  if 
she  does." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Lady  Ashwin  coolly.  "  John  is  not 
such  a  fool.  Not  to  mention  he  would  take  my  word  in 
front  of  yours, — I  should  know  how  to  manage  John.  I 
shall  say  I  did  what  I  could.  Anyhow,  I  wrote  twice." 

Wrote  twice!  Yet  once  more,  the  hopeless,  lengthy 
pause. 

"  Very  well,  then, — I  must  have  her,"  said  Violet. 

It  was  by  far  the  most  effective  thing  she  had  said,  had 
she  wanted  to  be  effective.  Her  mother's  head  turned 
instantly,  in  frank  surprise.  Then  it  turned  back  again. 

"  Violet, — you  little  fool !  "  she  said  simply. 

The  girl  gasped,  clutching  at  the  nearest  support — a 
chair.  It  was  one  thing  to  receive  a  letter,  another  to  re- 
ceive the  written  implication  full  in  the  face  like  this.  And 
in  such  a  tone ! — tolerant  amusement,  not  even  permitting 
contempt.  The  gods  were  hard  on  Violet. 

She  replied,  after  a  second  or  so,  standing  rigid,  turned 
away. 

"  You  may  insult  me,  Mother,  but  not  Charles.  Is  that 
the  last  thing  you  have  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  dignified  and  frosty,"  advised  Eveleen,  "  and 
make  scenes  about  nothing.  Come  here." 

Violet  did  not  come,  or  stir. 

"Are  you  crying?"  her  mother  inquired.  "You  will 
get  so  excited.  Fool  was  a  little  hard,  perhaps,  when  you 
thought  you  had  been  so  clever.  I'll  tell  you  one  thing, 
you  nearly  made  me  think  I'd  try  it,  once.  .  .  .  But 
it's  against  reason,  really,  to  expect  it.  I'll  write  to  John. 
.  .  .  Look  here,  give  me  that  girl's  address.  I  will  go 
and  see  her  in  the  morning  if  you  like, — I  rather  want  to 
see  her.  I  don't  know  why  you  should  be  so  concerned 


ii6  DUKE  JONES 

about  it.  I  dare  say  I  can  bring  her  to  reason,  and  get  her 
to  go  back.  Only  for  goodness'  sake  don't  do  anything 
high-faluting  and  hasty, — you  can't  imagine  you  know 
men  more  than  I  do,  at  your  age.  .  .  .  Come  here, 
Violet,  I  want  you." 

It  was  a  very  long  speech  for  Eveleen,  and  showed  that 
some  vague  effect,  from  the  emotion  spent  in  the  discus- 
sion, had  reached  her.  It  showed  the  vaguest  trifle  of  re- 
morse as  well.  Violet  repeated  internally  that  it  was  her 
nature,  and  she  was  trying  to  be  kind.  She  turned  and 
came  slowly.  She  was  rather  white,  but  not  crying :  for- 
tunately, for  Eveleen  hated  tears. 

"  Silly  little  goose,"  she  said  pleasantly,  being  victorious. 
"  Give  me  a  kiss."  She  held  her  on  the  couch  beside  her 
for  a  moment.  "  Do,  for  goodness*  sake,  avoid  making 
scenes  for  Charles.  It's  only  not  to  get  excited, — men  do 
hate  it  so.  And  it's  not  good  for  you,  either,  really, — your 
father  will  tell  you  that."  After  this  maternal  effort,  she 
paused.  "  You  really  must  get  your  hair  done  properly 
to-morrow,"  she  proceeded.  "  You'd  hardly  be  taken  for 
your  age  like  that,  though  it  suits  you.  You  looked  rather 
nice,  standing  over  there.  One  of  these  days  you  may  be 
pretty."  Another  interval,  while  she  warmed  the  girl's 
cold  hand.  She  had  almost  got  as  far  as  affection  by 
these  ingenious  means.  The  general  aspect  was  all  right, 
anyhow,  and  Eveleen  went  in  for  aspects.  "  Are  you  and 
Charles  stopping  to  dinner?  "  she  asked.  "  You  had  bet- 
ter. I  shall  make  him,  when  he  comes." 

"  Make  him, — if  you  can,"  said  Violet,  very  low.  "  I 
think  you  will  not  persuade  him,  to-night.  There's 
Leontine,"  she  added  gently,  at  the  knock.  "  Good  night, 
Mother.  I  am  going  to  see  Father  now." 

ii 

The  other  interview,  parallel  as  it  were  with  this,  was 
short  perforce,  for  her  father  had,  as  usual,  been  detained. 
She  had  to  wait  for  him  some  time,  sitting  in  his  little 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  117 

private  study,  almost  in  the  dark.  She  was  not  sorry  to  be 
granted  an  interval,  among  the  friendly  books  and  signs  of 
his  daily  presence,  to  calm  her  thoughts.  Her  mother  was 
more  "  tiring  to  the  soul,"  even  than  Lisette,  and  the 
gentle  light  and  studious  atmosphere  of  the  familiar  room 
were  more  soothing  to  Violet's  soul  than  immediate  com- 
pany, even  of  the  kindest,  would  have  been.  Her  first 
natural  instinct,  like  that  of  the  father  she  awaited,  was 
toward  retirement  and  intellectual  calm ;  the  instinct  was 
only  overlaid  by  small  feminine  distractions  and  the  habit 
of  society ;  but  she  came  back  at  intervals  to  grave  places, 
to  the  haunts  of  books  and  those  who  read  them,  as  to  her 
real  home. 

She  began  to  think  his  books  would  have  to  serve  her 
for  himself  before  he  finally  arrived ;  but  when  she  did  get 
her  interview,  though  brief  and  conducted  of  necessity  at 
top  speed,  it  was  a  success.  She  had  not  to  waste  time 
waiting  for  him  to  follow,  luckily,  and  she  produced  in  the 
course  of  it  every  single  effect  she  wanted,  quite  easily, — 
more  than  she  expected;  for  she  succeeded  in  surprising 
him,  making  him  jump:  he,  the  wariest  person  of  Violet's 
acquaintance,  was  absolutely  startled.  He  had  not  the 
least  expected  her  to  come  that  night.  It  was  a  momen- 
tary triumph,  quite  worth  any  amount  of  waiting  to 
secure. 

"  My  darling !  "  he  ejaculated,  as  she  seized  him.  "  Why 
did  you  not  warn  me  ?  You  have  had  to  wait  ?  " 

Father  and  courtier  were  perfectly  combined;  he  was 
not  oblivious  of  her  new  dignity,  at  least. 

"  I  should  think  so !  "  said  Mrs.  Shovell  plaintively.  "  I 
do  nothing  but  wait  for  my  parents,  in  this  house.  That  is 
how  I  spend  my  time  under  their  roof.  We  have  just 
thirteen  minutes  now  before  my  husband  comes."  She 
looked  at  her  watch  in  comical  despair.  "  I  don't  know, 
really,  how  ever  we  shall  get  through.  Shall  we  talk 
simultaneously,  Father  darling,  or  what  ?  I  am  in  straits, 
as  it  happens,  for  advice." 


n8  DUKE  JONES 

"  I  am  horrified,"  said  Sir  Claude,  without  emotion. 
"  You  do  not  look  so,  particularly." 

"Not  professional,  don't  imagine  it!  Much  more  re- 
sembling Scotland  Yard.  I  want  to  make  your  flesh 
creep,"  quoted  Violet  at  random  from  a  favorite  author. 
"Will  you  just  sit  in  that  chair  and  listen  eloquently? 
You  know  the  way  I  mean." 

"  Certainly, — if  I  do,  but  I  doubt  it.  May  I  ask  three 
questions  first  ?  " 

"  No, — yes, — get  along." 

"  Three  will  serve,  I  think."  He  considered  carefully. 
"  Have  you  seen  your  mother?  " 

"  To  be  sure.  I  had  tea  with  her.  She  knew  all  about 
my  visit  in  advance, — only  she  didn't  tell  you.  Mother  did 
not  see  the  almighty  hurry,  probably." 

"  Thanks, — so  I  supposed."  His  eyes  were  on  her, 
steady  and  amused.  "  Well,  secondly :  are  you  prepared 
for  a  primitive  state  of  things  at  home :  Genesis  before 
the  Creation,  and  worse  ?  " 

"  Hasn't  the  light  come?  "  said  Mrs.  Shovell  innocently. 
"  The  company  informed  me  so.  You  don't  know  your 
Scripture,  Father,  I  am  afraid.  Dearest,  don't  say  she  has 
fagged  you  to  go  round  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  there  half  the  day,  quite  fruitlessly,"  said 
Sir  Claude.  "  I  can — not  make  them  see  that  blue's  not 
green;  and  I  could  not  think  of  more  than  one  way  to 
express  it." 

"  Couldn't  you  ?  I  should  have  added  that  green's  not 
blue,  and  then  left  them  in  peace  to  make  comparisons. 
The  lower  classes  need  such  gentle  handling,"  said  Violet, 
sitting  down  on  his  knee,  having  tried  the  dignity  of  a 
chair  and  rejected  it. 

"  Oh  well, — go  and  handle  them  gently.  I  didn't.  The 
third  thing " 

"  Father,  if  you  have  been  trampling  on  my  workmen, 
I  shall  complain.  I  am  delighted  they  are  still  about.  I 
intend  to  have  picnics  with  them,  pleasantly,  all  this  week. 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  119 

I  am  hoping  to  know  them  intimately, — Christian  names. 
I  shall  flirt  with  the  foreman, — oh,  how  is  Mr.  Ford,  by 
the  way  ?  " 

"  The  third  thing,"  said  her  father,  lifting  a  hand  to 
ward  frivolity,  "  is  serious,  Pussy,  because  imminent.  The 
need  is  close  at  hand.  What  does  your  husband  drink? 
There  is  nothing  in  your  house  for  him  to-night." 

Violet's  gray  eyes  flashed,  and  she  drew  herself  up. 

"  Your  health  he  may  drink, — in  water !  Father,  dar- 
ling, you  will  really  make  me  cry !  The  idea  of  your  wast- 
ing your  magnificent  mind  on  such  a  thing !  Charles'  beer ! 
— he  can  fetch  it  himself  from  a  pub !  Now  do  dismiss  all 
such  trifles  where  they  really  belong,  and  listen  eloquently, 
— do  you  mind?  I  simply  love  your  face  when  you  do 
that,  contented  and  watchfully  blinking.  I  don't  wonder 
the  least,"  Mrs.  Shovell  summed  up  in  her  intensest  man- 
ner, "  people  give  you  guineas  for  looking  so." 

"  They  don't,"  Claude  assured  her.  "  Only  half  the 
guinea  for  that.  Go  on, — I'll  do  my  best." 

She  told  him  the  story  of  her  loss,  avoiding  names,  in 
the  most  erratic  language,  though  he  seemed  able  to  un- 
derstand. He  listened,  with  the  expression  to  which  Violet 
alluded,  glancing  at  her  from  time  to  time.  He  would 
sooner  have  played  with  her,  of  course ;  but  since  it  was 
to  be  business,  and  the  time  was  short,  it  was  better  to  get 
it  done,  and  their  minds  ran  admirably  in  harness  to- 
gether. Nothing  she  said  was  foolish,  only  wild.  And 
her  wildness,  though  it  clearly  had  some  physical  cause, 
did  not  disturb  him  mightily;  for  by  all  the  signs  his 
fatherly  and  physicianly  mind  could  muster,  she  was  mar- 
velously  well. 

"  You  are  sure  just  when  you  lost  it?  "  he  said.  "  Do 
you  suspect  the  thief  ?  " 

"  I  do.  There  were  two  people  who  might  have  done  it 
equally,  close  to  me  when  it  disappeared :  one  was  a  girl 
whom  I  have  known,  or  at  least  known  about,  for  years, 
and  one  a  man  we  met  quite  by  chance  at  the  hotel." 


120  DUKE  JONES 

• 

"  And  you  suspect  the  girl  ?  " 

"  Now  how  did  you  know  that,  Father  ?  " 

"  By  the  form  of  the  sentence." 

"Well,  it  would  be  politer  not  to  steal  my  dramatic 
effects.  I  suspect  the  girl.  In  fact,  I  am  almost  certain 
it  was  she,  and  not  him,"  finished  Violet  with  elegant  de- 
liberation. 

"  Evidence  ?  "  said  Sir  Claude. 

"  Psychological  largely,"  said  Violet.  "  But  I  suppose 
you  won't  take  that?  Well,  the  girl  was  in  want  of 
money,  immediate  want,  and  the  man  was  quite  well  off. 
That,  of  course,  is  not  conclusive.  Secondly,  the  man 
knew  I  had  taken  out  the  only  thing  of  value  and  put  it 
round  my  neck."  She  snicked  the  pearls  she  was  still 
wearing.  "  In  fact,  he  advised  me  to  do  so.  And  the  girl 
had  every  reason  to  think  it  was  still  inside  the  case." 

"  Humph !  "  Claude  considered.  "  Did  you  take  any 
steps?  Promptly,  I  mean." 

"  No.  My  husband  was  not  there  when  it  occurred.  To 
tell  the  truth,  I  thought  he  might  have  taken  it  himself, — 
my  husband  does  that  sort  of  thing.  When  I  realized 
Charles  was  innocent,  I  had  had  time  to  think,  and  I  did 
not  bring  up  the  subject." 

"  You  mean  Charles  did  not  notice  it  was  gone  ?  "  He 
looked  at  her. 

"  No,  darling,"  said  Violet  tranquilly.  "  He  is  not  a 
kind  of  lynx  and  bloodhound  in  one,  like  some  people.  He 
is  very  restful  company." 

"And  you  incline  to  do  nothing  in  the  matter?  And 
expect  my  moral  support  in  doing  it  ?  Is  that  it  ?  " 

"  Precisely, — all  of  it.  You  hit  the  mark."  He  consid- 
ered again. 

"  But  if  so,"  he  suggested, "  why  tell  me  at  all?  " 

"  Feminine,  rather,"  admitted  Violet,  "  and  conse- 
quently intricate.  Can  you  bear  it  ?  Nearly  every  pretty 
thing  I  possess  was  given  me  by  you,  wedding  presents 
notwithstanding.  Broadly  judging  by  wedding  presents, 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  121 

you  are  the  only  person  of  taste  of  my  acquaintance.  The 
things  in  that  case  were  yours  exclusively,  chosen  for 
beauty,  not  swagger,  the  rest  being  at  the  Bank.  They 
were  old  things, — unmarried, — and  I  am  not  yet  legally 
of  age,"  she  added  hastily. 

He  tapped  his  head.  "  What  a  jumble  of  sentiment  and 
equity.  Don't  mix  the  issues.  Of  age  or  not,  anything  I 
give  you  is  yours,  you  can  assume  it.  Fling  it  out  of  the 
window  if  you  like.  What  was  the  value  of  the  trinkets?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  least  idea,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell  plain- 
tively. "  I  must  depend  on  you  even  for  that." 

He  made  her  describe  them,  and  the  occasions  to 
which  they  belonged ;  and,  with  his  sure  memory  for  gems, 
recollected  each  in  turn. 

"  About  thirty  pounds,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 

"  Lucky  it  was  no  worse,"  suggested  Violet.  "  Fortune 
favors  the  careless  in  this  instance,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  It  seems  to.  Would  it  be  presumptuous  to  suggest 
that  it  is  unwise  to  play  with  your  pearls  in  public  ?  " 

"  Most  impertinent,"  said  Violet.  "  It  would  probably 
close  this  conversation." 

"  Why  do  you  carry  them  about,  when  the  Bank  is 
there?" 

"  Pure  sentiment,  Father,  a  thing  you  can  hardly  un- 
derstand. Charles  calls  me  sentimental.  Besides,"  she 
added,  with  sudden  mischief,  "  I  was  safe  enough  at  the 
hotel.  The  hiss  of  the  word  artificial  simply  followed  me 
about." 

The  doctor's  eyes  flashed,  and  he  would  have  spoken, 
but  she  caught  him  laughing  by  the  throat. 

"  Gently,"  she  said.  "  Two  people  appreciated  them 
thoroughly, — the  two  that  accompanied  me  to-day.  She 
wanted  them  fearfully,  I  know,  poor  dear.  I  can't  help 
being  thankful  she  did  not  take  them,  because  I  should 
have  been  forced  to  act.  You  would  have  forced  me,  if 
not  my  own  feelings.  I  could — not  have  borne  it.  I  can 
hardly  bear  it  as  it  is.  It  is  three  birthdays  gone  from  my 


122  DUKE  JONES 

life, — she  little  knew !  If  it  had  only — only — been  the  In- 
gestre  wedding  presents !  " 

"  Was  the  girl  in  distress?  "  said  Claude,  touching  her 
hair  as  she  hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder.  He  had  seldom 
suffered  such  showers  of  flattery, — it  had  evidently  been 
storing  up.  His  heart  had  long  been  open  to  all  girls  for 
her  sake,  so  the  question  fell  naturally  into  the  context. 

"  She  was,"  said  Violet,  just  audibly.  With  all  her  heart 
she  longed  to  tell  him,  for  she  knew  his  help  would  be 
ready  and  his  judgment  sure;  but  her  hands  were  tied. 
Her  silence  and  rigidity  spoke  the  fact  eloquently ;  and  Sir 
Claude  made  no  attempt  to  press  her.  During  the  in- 
terval he  took  stock  of  her  in  his  usual  merciless  fashion. 

"  You  have  put  on  weight,  Pussy,"  he  observed. 

"  Oh,  poor  man, — am  I  too  much  for  him  ?  "  She 
looked  up.  "  It's  all  that  cream.  Charles  simply  drove 
me  into  competition.  You  never  saw  anything  like  him 
when  he  gets  to  work, — and  yet  he  gets  no  plumper,  per- 
ceptibly. I  suppose  he  talks  it  off.  Do  you  like  Cornish 
cream,  Father?" 

"  Very  much,  thank  you,"  said  Sir  Claude. 

"  I  counted  upon  Mother,  but  I  was  not  sure  of  you.  I 
brought  two  little  jugs,  for  you  not  to  quarrel.  I  shouldn't 
like  you  to  quarrel  in  my  absence,  the  first  night." 

"  Are  you  not  staying  to  dinner?  " 

"  Oh  dear  no, — couldn't  think  of  it.  I  didn't  even  ask 
Mason  what  Mother  had  ordered  when  I  was  in  the 
kitchen  just  now." 

"  Great  self-control,"  he  agreed.  He  waited  a  minute. 
"  Has  your  mother  written  to  you  these  last  weeks  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl,  very  gently. 

"  I  thought  she  might."  His  face  cleared.  "  You  ex- 
cuse my  asking  ?  " 

"  I  do,  dear.  You  have  written  less  than  usual,  I  may 
observe." 

"  I  have  resigned  my  responsibilities,"  said  Sir  Claude. 

"  Father !    Will  you  kindly  take  that  back  ?  " 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  123 

"  Most  of  my  responsibilities.  Some  of  them,  Pussy, — 
one  or  two." 

"  Not  any,"  she  said.  "  It's  no  good  hedging.  You 
never  were  my  husband,  whatever  else  you  set  up  to  be. 
Charles'  job  is  completely  different, — harder,  perhaps," 
she  admitted  pensively.  "  There  he  is,"  she  added, 
though  his  quick  ear  had  heard  nothing.  A  second  later 
a  hand  pushed  the  swing  door,  and  Charles  entered  to 
fetch  her.  The  doctor  greeted  him  without  moving, — 
indeed,  he  was  unable  to,  since  Mrs.  Shovell  did  not  stir 
from  his  knee. 

"  Oh,  Father,  before  I  forget,"  she  said.  "  Will  you 
show  Charles  your  medals?  He  is  simply  longing  to  see 
them, — aren't  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to,  really  awfully,"  said  Charles. 

"  I  should  be  charmed,"  said  Sir  Claude,  without  ex- 
pression. "  Now  we  have  fulfilled  the  forms  sufficiently. 
She's  safe  to  forget  for  another  year." 

"  You've  got  the  key  on  you ! "  exclaimed  Violet  in 
indignation.  She  proceeded  to  the  search. 

"  No,  I  assure  you,"  he  said  patiently.  "  None  of 
those.  It's  on  Ford's  bunch,  probably,  unless  he  has  mis- 
laid it." 

"  Father,  do  you  expect  to  go  to  Heaven  ?  "  said  Violet 
very  seriously.  "  Because  you  won't,  at  this  rate.  You 
know  you  would  never  trust  a  mere  Ford  with  your  Order 
of  Merit,  not  to  mention  the  ducky  little  one  the  Prince 
of " 

The  doctor  signed  to  Charles,  who  gagged  her  oblig- 
ingly with  both  hands. 

"  Has  she  been  boring  you  ?  "  he  inquired,  glancing 
above  her. 

"  Only  on  a  few  subjects,  this  for  one,"  said  Charles. 
"  I  can  head  her  off  if  I'm  careful.  But  this  seems  to 
have  more  sides  than  most,  so  it's  harder  to  dodge. 
.  .  .  How's  that?  "  he  added  to  Violet. 

"  Rather  well  put,"  said  Violet.    "  But  there's  a  medal 


124  DUKE  JONES 

for  each  side  of  him,  if  you  had  let  me  explain.  It's 
highly  instructive,  really, — and  an  awful  warning.  If 
you  never  waste  a  golden  minute, — oh,  goodness  me, 
weren't  they  golden,  Charles,  in  the  shrimpiest  pool! — • 
that's  where  you  come  to.  That ! "  She  pointed,  leaning 
back  against  Charles.  Then  she  swung  forward.  "  Good 
night,  my  own  blessing.  I  hope  you'll  like  the  cream. 
Your  advice  has  been  invaluable  over  that  little  difficulty 
of  mine.  Professional,  with  a  difference.  As  a  consult- 
ing occasional  solicitor,  with  a  moralizing  turn,  you  might 
have  scored  several  other  decorations  for  your  best  coat. 
Only  I  am  afraid  you  would  sum  up  everybody's  evidence 
far  too  fast,  and  fluster  them." 

"  Solicitors  don't  sum  up,  my  child,"  said  Charles,  with 
reproval.  "  Try  judges." 

"  Don't  they  ?  Well,  he  would  make  a  nice-looking 
judge  when  he's  a  trifle  older :  a  kind  one.  And  he  would 
not  need  powdering,  very  soon."  She  smoothed  a  crisp 
dark  lock  on  which  the  silver  was  gaining  rapidly.  "  He 
will  be  rather  more  respectable  as  a  father  too,  when  that 
takes  place.  More  presentable  in  the  background,  among 
his  daughter's  guests." 

"  Tell  me  when  you  have  had  enough,"  said  Charles  to 
his  father-in-law,  "  and  I  will  muffle  her  with  my  scarf. 
It  may  not  have  struck  you,  V.,  that  our  taxi-tariff  is 
running  all  this  time." 

"Did  you  call  one?"  said  Violet.  "Why  didn't  you 
warn  me, — idiot !  I  can  tell  him  the  rest  to-morrow,  when 
he  comes  to  call.  A  mere  formality,  Father ;  twenty  min- 
utes will  do.  No  time  for  protest,"  she  added,  ever  more 
rapidly,  as  her  victim  snatched  up  his  engagement-book. 
"  Every  second  is  wasting  Charles'  substance,  and  he  can- 
not stop.  Any  time  after  five  would  suit  me, — just  wire 
to  the  King  you  can't.  I  made  his  acquaintance  last  May, 
— the  May  before  last,  and  he's  quite  agreeable.  Charles, 
— my  coat!  Thanks,  dearest;  now  I  really  am  ready,  I 
believe." 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  125 

"  Violet  looks  extremely  well,"  observed  Eveleen  across 
the  dinner-table;  softened  doubtless  by  a  perspective  of 
cream. 

"  She  is  very  happy,"  said  Claude,  with  gentle  dis- 
tinctness. "  I  am  thankful.  That  boy  has  more  in  him 
than  I  thought." 

"  He's  improved  too,"  said  Eveleen.  "  Not  so  languish- 
ing. He  stands  up  and  talks.  He  was  quite  amusing  the 
few  minutes  he  stayed  with  me.  I  like  that  light  com- 
plexion when  it  goes  brown." 

"  That  will  go  off  soon  enough,"  said  Claude.  "  The 
rest,  we  may  trust,  will  not.  Will  you  go  and  see  them, 
Eveleen  ?  " 

"  Naturally — to-morrow.  I  could  fit  it  in  just  after 
dinner,  I  think,"  said  Lady  Ashwin,  pondering.  "  Then 
I  could  be  sure  of  both." 

"  I  will  fit  it  in  just  before  dinner,"  reflected  the  master 
of  the  house.  "  Then  I  shall  be  sure  of  one  alone." 

He  did  not  note  the  hour,  all-important  as  it  was  to 
miss  his  wife,  and  to  catch  Violet ;  being  still  able,  in  the 
day's  most  tedious  complexity,  to  trust  his  memory  for 
details. 

in 

Little  did  Mrs.  Shovell  suspect,  in  the  course  of  those 
last  days'  incidents,  and  those  two  casual  interviews  she 
had  had  tete-d-tete  with  Marmaduke  Jones,  what  a  sleuth- 
hound  she  had  let  loose  upon  the  world.  It  would  have 
afforded  some  quite  thrilling  finishing  touches  to  Charles' 
original  "  narrative  "  concerning  this  inconspicuous  young 
man,  if  either  husband  or  wife  had  been  enabled  to  study 
this  side  of  him  more  completely.  But  it  was  just  from 
husband  and  wife  that  the  really  striking  qualities  in  Jones 
were  concealed,  for  the  reason  that  they  were  bad-weather 
qualities,  such  as  the  glamour  of  golden  honeymoon  does 
not  encourage  or  tempt  from  their  hiding-place  in  the 
heart  of  a  shy  young  man.  Thus,  to  the  end  of  the  honey- 


126  DUKE  JONES 

moon's  concluding  journey,  when  Marmaduke  had  the  last 
glimpse  on  the  station-platform  of  Mrs.  Shovell's  whim- 
sical little  pointed  face  under  her  feathered  hat,  he  pre- 
served the  mask.  The  instant  he  turned  his  back  on  her, 
no  doubt,  the  wild  gleam  of  the  bloodhound  loosed  on  a 
scent,  flickered  furtively  in  his  ferocious  eye.  That  is  at 
least  how  the  facts  would  have  figured  in  the  narrative, 
had  Charles  been  allowed  his  fair  chance  at  them. 

Jones  called  a  farewell  to  Shovell  as  he  passed, — 
Shovell  looking  straight,  fair  and  indifferent,  as  usual, 
amid  an  unholy  ferment  of  men  and  things:  airing,  no 
doubt,  at  that  six-foot  eminence  of  his,  a  perfectly  quiet 
mind;  since  his  pleasant  prestige  of  youth,  ease,  arro- 
gance, together  with  a  certain  tone  of  voice  and  cut  of 
clothes  infallibly  connected  with  our  older  universities  to 
the  uneducated  mind,  surrounded  him  at  every  turn  with 
servile  porters  eager  to  do  his  will,  and,  in  preference  to 
many  an  older  and  more  deserving  traveler,  to  tear  out 
his  wife's  boxes  from  everybody  else's  which  they  over- 
turned, and  in  response  to  a  mere  lift  of  brow,  jerk  of 
head,  or  brief  careless  word  of  direction,  to  charge  and 
heave  then  onto  his  chosen  cab.  He  was  a  young  lord  of 
the  earth,  and  looked  it ;  but  he  spared,  as  usual,  a  pleasant 
word  to  Jones,  across  the  scrambling  porters. 
"  See  you,  shan't  we  ?  Rather, — don't  forget." 
Forget !  Why,  he  forgot  himself  the  next  instant,  prob- 
ably; and  Jones,  melting  into  that  station  turmoil  which 
begins  and  closes  so  many  human  tragedies,  was  blotted 
out  likewise  upon  the  tablet  of  Charles'  mind.  Shovell 
was  created  to  forget,  every  bit  as  surely  as  Jones  was 
created  to  remember,  every  day,  hour,  minute  of  the  time 
they  had  passed  together  in  that  enchanted  land.  It  was 
already  a  kind  of  agreeable  game,  pretty  but  played  out, 
to  Shovell,  and  his  thoughts  full  of  the  ancient  interests 
and  occupations,  the  new  duties  and  diversions,  of  the 
town.  Jones  alone  forgot  nothing  easily,  whether  work  or 
play,  having  a  retentive,  well-managed  mind,  working  like 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  127 

an  excellent  little  road-engine  to  and  fro  along  a  limited 
span,  but  absolutely  to  be  trusted  in  the  accomplishment 
of  its  common  duties,  day  by  day. 

His  mind  had  retained  for  him,  for  instance,  quite 
solidly  and  safely,  three  addresses,  only  one  of  which, 
being  foreign,  he  had  written  down.  That  was  Mrs. 
Shovell's  quiet  hotel  in  Paris,  where  they  talked  some 
English  but  things  were  French.  The  other  two  were  the 
new  house  in  Livingstone  Gardens,  near  Holland  Park, 
mentioned,  in  passing,  by  Shovell  as  his  future  abode; 
and  the  boarding-house  address,  patronized  by  the  lovely 
Miss  Lisette,  and  handed  him  for  an  instant  at  the  junc- 
tion by  Shovell's  wife.  Jones  had  also  jotted  on  his  cuff 
the  name  Addenbroke,  a  queer  one ;  since  it  appeared  the 
girl  had  been  only  "  pulling  the  leg  "  of  the  other  (and 
older)  girls  at  the  hotel,  when  she  entered  herself  on  the 
books  with  a  title.  This  last  fact,  which  seemed  to  amuse 
the  Shovells,  had  been  a  decided  relief  to  Jones,  who 
jibbed  at  titles,  and  who  foresaw  some  probable  inter- 
course, in  the  near  future,  with  the  young  person  who  no 
longer  carried  that  alarming  prefix  to  her  name. 

Jones  had  decided,  during  the  leisure  of  the  long  jour- 
ney, that  he  did  not  greatly  like  Lisette,  though  it  was 
none  the  less  his  business  to  care  for  her.  He  had  been, 
to  begin  with,  most  horribly  torn  in  mind  over  the  duty  of 
deciding  whether  she  was  a  "  lady."  She  had  not  seemed 
to  him  so  the  first  night,  especially  in  the  light  of  Stud- 
ley's  visible  appreciation.  In  spite  of  certain  things  to  her 
credit,  such  as  her  crisp  accent,  well-made,  dark-colored 
and  rather  careless  clothes,  and  ready  reception  of  and 
response  to  Shovell's  high-quality  witticisms,  not  to  men- 
tion her  occasional  references  to  the  aristocracy,  some  of 
whom  seemed  to  be  her  relations, — Jones  on  his  own 
account  would  have  refused  Lisette  that  great  name :  had 
it  not  been  for  Mrs.  Shovell's  manner  towards  her.  That 
was  a  unique  testimonial,  that  easy  sisterly  acceptance, 
and  above  all  the  constant  pretty  laughter  at  her  riskiest 


128  DUKE  JONES 

speeches.  Jones  had  seen  her  laugh,  when  her  husband 
himself  stared,  and  when  Jones,  in  the  corner  beyond,  felt 
scorched  and  petrified.  It  looked  as  though  what  sounded 
flashy  and  fast  to  his  untutored  ear  might  be  in  reality 
only  the  mistakes  of  others,  reflected,  as  it  were,  in  a 
singularly  frank,  shallow  and  childish  mind,  a  little  em- 
bittered by  hard  experience.  It  might,  of  course,  be  so, 
though  Marmaduke  still  felt  dazed  in  retrospect  by  some 
of  Miss  Lisette's  opinions  and  expressions. 

Beyond  this, — it  had  to  be  set  against  Miss  Adden- 
broke's  account, — she  had  been  really  impertinent,  not 
once  only,  but  several  times,  to  the  young  married  lady  of 
Jones'  party.  She  had  laughed  extremely  loud  at  the 
name  of  the  book  Mrs.  Shovell  was  reading,  and  jerked 
it  across  the  carriage,  so  that  in  falling  from  the  seat  to 
the  floor  its  leaves  were  bent.  She  had  criticized  Mrs. 
Shovell's  hand-made  sandwiches  most  rudely,  and  then 
proceeded  to  eat  three-fourths  of  them,  which  must  have 
been  a  sign  of  some  inner  appreciation,  gracelessly  and 
ungratefully  disguised.  She  had  tried  on  Mrs.  Shovell's 
hat,  wrinkled  her  critical  little  nose  over  each  of  its  silver 
pins  in  turn,  and,  with  most  unjustifiable  curiosity,  sought 
for  the  name  of  the  maker  within.  She  had  done  a  thing 
far  worse,  for  Marmaduke,  which  he  could  still  barely 
forgive  her.  She  had  winked  at  him, — at  Jones, — when 
she  woke,  as  fresh  as  a  cricket,  from  her  nap,  and  dis- 
covered that  her  cousin  had  also  fallen  asleep  within  her 
husband's  arm.  Jones  hoped  very  much  he  had  betrayed 
by  his  wooden  and  repellent  aspect,  on  this  occasion,  his 
true  opinion  of  this  irreverent  proceeding  on  the  part  of 
Miss  Addenbroke;  but  since  she  continued  to  smile  at 
him,  calmly  and  confidentially,  he  could  not  be  sure. 

Another  matter  as  to  which  he  could  not  be  sure, 
naturally,  was  whether  Miss  Addenbroke  liked  him.  Her 
speech  and  conduct  seemed  no  safe  guide,  since  she  con- 
tinually contradicted  her  own  proceedings.  For  instance, 
she  had  drawn,  for  the  benefit  of  her  connections,  a  very 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  129 

violent  and  childish  caricature  of  her  sister's  suitor  utter- 
ing the  word  "  Honoria,"  with  exclamation  points,  in- 
closed in  a  long  balloon ;  and  then,  turning  the  sheet,  had 
begun  a  careless  but  really  excellent  likeness  of  Mr. 
Shovell,  smoking  in  the  corner.  She  had  chosen  him  as 
model  without  hesitation,  and  he,  as  obviously,  enjoyed 
being  drawn.  It  was  only  when  his  wife  betrayed  curi- 
osity and  interest  in  the  portrait  that  the  artist,  like  a 
naughty  child,  spoiled  the  whole  suddenly  with  a  scribble, 
and  told  the  indignant  model  he  had  a  "  stodgy  "  face, 
not  worth  her  serious  pains.  She  then,  instead  of  turn- 
ing in  the  obvious  direction,  tried  Jones:  and  made  him 
very  uncomfortable  indeed  by  her  attentions  and  commen- 
tary, until  she  abandoned  art  at  the  appearance  of  the 
lunch-basket. 

Then  again :  she  had  interrupted  a  manly  discussion  of 
mountaineering  to  boast  of  her  adventures  as  a  child 
during  various  excursions  on  foot  in  her  father's  com- 
pany. Her  courage  and  endurance,  by  her  own  account, 
and  her  father's  at  second-hand,  were  remarkable.  In  the 
midst  of  which  boasting  the  train  entered  a  tunnel,  and 
Miss  Lisette,  terrified,  had  crouched  up  to  Mrs.  Shovell's 
side,  and  clung  child-like  to  her  arm.  When  the  train 
came  to  a  stop,  still  in  the  darkness,  she  had  been  so  nerv- 
ously apprehensive  of  an  accident  having  occurred  that 
she  was  only  prevented  by  male  force  from  springing  at 
the  communication  cord.  On  emerging  into  the  sunlight, 
letting  go  Violet,  she  had  bidden  Jones  feel  her  hand ;  and 
when  he  unwillingly  did  so  he  found  it  was  really  cold  and 
limp.  She  had  next  proceeded,  with  fearfully  realistic 
detail,  and  singular  heartlessness,  to  relate  to  him  the 
story  of  the  accident  in  which  her  parents  had  lost  their 
lives,  and  in  which  Miss  Lisette,  having  been  cleverly 
rescued,  alone  uninjured,  from  the  broken  carriage,  had 
taken  a  prominent  part.  She  seemed  absolutely  to  relish 
the  description,  especially  when  it  came  to  the  point  of 
her  portrait, — a  nice  one, — having  been  in  all  the  picture 


i3o  DUKE  JONES 

papers  next  day:  where,  in  the  neighboring  column,  of 
course,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Addenbroke  figured  on  the  list  of 
the  dead. 

Jones,  really  quite  perplexed  what  to  think  during  this 
recital,  had  glanced  at  Mrs.  Shovell  beyond,  and  found 
she  had  shut  her  eyes  with  an  expression  of  keen  pain 
that  explained,  if  not  everything,  at  least  much.  He  de- 
cided at  once  that  the  girl  had  suffered  horribly  herself 
at  the  time,  and  was  trying  to  disgust  them  now  deliber- 
ately by  a  kind  of  bravado. 

"  Look  at  her,"  Lisette  appended  to  her  own  story  with 
a  little  laugh.  "  She  knows  about  it  too,  of  course. 
They're  her  people  as  well." 

Thus  it  became  clear  that  she  had  carried  through  her 
late  effort,  having  started  it  idly,  in  her  own  despite,  and 
to  tease  the  other  girl;  being  not  less  sensitive  herself, 
only  wishing  to  display  her  callousness  and  contempt  of 
weakness,  whether  her  own  weakness,  or  that  of  others 
who  cared  for  her. 

This  experience,  and  above  all  that  look  in  Mrs. 
Shovell's  face,  patient  beneath  its  pain,  set  Jones  at  once 
on  the  track  of  new  discoveries  in  this  fair  young  lady  she 
guarded.  Lisette  Addenbroke  was  defiant,  her  hand 
against  every  man,  her  back  against  the  wall.  She  pricked 
and  tormented  these  two  people,  who  had  certainly  been 
very  kind  to  her:  she  took  the  offensive  towards  Jones, 
who  had  neither  done  nor  wished  her  any  harm.  She 
looked  as  far  as  possible  from  crying,  at  all  stages  of 
that  lively  journey;  yet  Jones  imagined  she  might  have 
cried,  and  recently.  Briefly,  a  very  little  time  after  that 
brutal  story  of  hers  concerning  the  calamity  that  had  made 
her  an  orphan,  a  singular  thing  happened, — Jones'  pity 
awoke.  How  far  it  was  as  a  direct  consequence  of  his 
suspicion  that  Mrs.  Shovell  pitied  too,  beneath  her 
laughter,  cannot  be  determined  entirely.  Pity,  as  an  emo- 
tion, is  certainly  contagious ;  so  much  may  safely  be  said. 

But  the  important  thing  was  that  pity,  in  this  particular 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  131 

Jones,  was  more  than  an  emotion,  it  might  almost  be  called 
an  alarum.  It  awoke  a  whole  department  of  his  being,  a 
department  which,  on  holiday,  could  be  allowed  to  lie  in 
abeyance.  It  was  the  same  crying  need  of  his  nature  that 
urged  him  to  claim  that  vacant  secretaryship  of  his 
"  show  "  in  London,  which  various  other  good-natured 
persons  were  "  quite  too  busy  "  to  undertake ;  and  what 
is  more,  to  claim  it  at  a  moment  when  a  sudden  accession 
to  fortune,  at  an  age  when  youth  can  most  appreciate  it, 
would  have  turned  many  a  young  man's  head  to  giddier 
dreams.  It  merely  suggested  to  Marmaduke  that  he  had, 
at  last,  time  to  be  useful. 

Jones  was  one  of  the  people — fortunately  not  rare  in  this 
soft-hearted,  serious  Northern  race, — who  from  birth  feel 
a  duty  to  the  community,  and  whose  thoughts  turn  from 
early  manhood  in  the  high  philanthropic  direction.  Of 
these  young  men,  all  excellent  folk  and  many  very  dull,  a 
number  go  into  the  church, — let  us  say  one  of  the 
churches, — the  "  church  army,"  or  the  more  distant  mis- 
sion field.  A  small  proportion,  by  a  singular  psychological 
leading  that  it  would  take  volumes  of  far  finer  study  than 
this  to  follow  or  define,  go  into  the  other  army, — their 
nation's.  A  quantity  go  to  lay  societies  and  settlements  in 
the  East  End,  and  conduct  parties  of  poor  lads  round 
museums,  on  tours,  or  to  the  life  of  holiday  camps.  A 
few  write  rather  stupid  books  for  children.  A  few  more, 
— free  lances,  of  whom  Jones, — take  up  the  odd  causes, 
appear  at  the  less  popular  meetings,  do  horrid  jobs  such 
as  offering  votes  of  thanks  and  distributing  prizes  at  mis- 
sion-schools, and  write  the  few  sincerely  indignant  letters 
to  the  papers,  generally  much  inferior  in  style,  among  the 
hundreds  of  better-composed  and  touching  addresses  that 
flood  the  public  columns,  every  week. 

The  only  difference  between  Jones  and  many  others  of 
his  kind  was  that  he  had  had  a  better  education.  And  by 
this,  with  deference  to  Mr.  Shovell,  we  do  not  mean  that 
he  had  been  an  unattached  member  of  Oxford  University, 


I32  DUKE  JONES 

but  simply  that  he  had  received  a  good  education  from  his 
parents.  It  is  really  as  important  as  the  other,  and  the 
other  is  of  singularly  little  use  without  it. 

Charles  himself  owed  his  guidance  in  life  to  women 
chiefly :  and  Jones  had  also  been  so  inspired.  His  mother 
had  been  the  mother  of  a  hero,  whatsoever  her  son  ulti- 
mately became.  She  had  shown  him  the  path  in  every 
direction,  and  supplemented  at  every  point  his  father's 
gifts  of  steady  sense  and  steadier  purpose.  Mrs.  Jones, — 
as  to  whom  Violet  had  been  so  persistently  curious  when 
Charles'  chatter  had  been  of  Jones  alone, — had  lost  the  use 
of  a  finger  as  a  young  woman  by  saving  a  child  from 
burning,  and  that  small  reminder  had  been  before  Marma- 
duke  throughout  his  most  sensitive  years.  Violet,  sitting 
in  her  corner,  beyond  Jones,  while  he  read  his  dull  book 
and  watched  Lisette  furtively  at  intervals,  would  have 
been  greatly  interested  to  hear  that  and  other  tales  of  Mrs. 
Jones.  It  might  even  have  relieved  her  of  some  of  her 
vaguely-haunting  anxiety.  Charles,  who  also  noticed 
these  frequent  glances  on  Jones'  part,  merely  hugged  the 
amusing  thought  that,  against  his  better  nature,  their 
model  young  man  was  being  attracted. 

So  he  was  attracted,  as  events  shortly  proved.  By  a 
chance  that  critics  would  have  thought  most  suspicious, 
he  occupied  the  same  omnibus  as  Lisette,  when  she  left 
the  station  finally,  only  he  was  within  and  she  above.  Jones 
knew  she  would  go  above,  because  the  man  who  followed 
her, — a  well-dressed  and  prosperous-looking  man, — was 
smoking.  It  was  the  same  man  as  before,  and  he  had  not 
been  in  the  train,  but  had  met  her  at  a  rendezvous  in  the 
station.  As  to  the  omnibus,  Jones  was  interested ;  it  was 
not  the  least  such  an  omnibus  as  he  would  have  used 
naturally,  and  it  took  a  route  in  a  diametrically  opposite 
direction  to  that  of  his  third  address — the  boarding-house. 
It  interested  Jones  because,  on  the  subject  of  the  boarding- 
house,  at  which  she  had  scoffed  elaborately,  it  had  seemed 
to  him  Lisette  was  sincere.  The  change  therefore  signified 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  133 

a  new  departure,  and  as  the  girl  went  up,  she  looked  pink 
and  pouting,  as  though  resenting  such  a  change.  The  man, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  benignantly  calm. 

Lisette  did  not  see  Jones,  as  need  not  be  stated,  because 
her  mind  was  occupied  evidently  by  a  recent  quarrel ;  and 
also  because,  as  we  have  so  often  asserted,  he  was  exactly 
like  a  hundred  other  young  men  who  were  crowding  the 
London  conveyances  at  the  busiest  hour  of  return  from 
work.  His  appearance,  to  refer  to  Charles  again,  would 
have  been  suspicious  in  the  eyes  of  nobody  unless  the  de- 
tective-novelist, or  that  novelist's  well-trained  reader,  such 
as  Charles.  And  since  Charleses  are  more  rare  than 
Joneses  in  London  'buses  between  five  and  six  o'clock,  the 
sleuth-hound  sitting  in  the  corner  passed  unsuspected. 

Marmaduke  also  noticed,  as  the  pair  went  aloft,  that  the 
man  was  carrying  something  that  might  have  been  a  bag 
or  dispatch-case;  but  he  paid  no  closer  attention  until, 
just  after  Lisette  and  her  escort  got  down  at  a  busy  street- 
corner,  and  as  Jones  was  preparing  to  follow  them,  a 
commotion  occurred  on  the  top  of  the  omnibus.  Some 
people,  after  the  usual  short  altercation  over  treasure- 
trove,  handed  down  an  object. 

"  Man  left  it  who  got  off  with  the  girl,"  was  the  in- 
formation. "  It's  hers,  probably.  Can  you  catch  him  ?  " 

It  seemed  late  to  the  conductor  to  catch  him,  considering 
the  crowd. 

"Can  you  still  see  him?"  he  called  to  his  informant 
above,  who  had  the  best  point  of  view. 

"  I  can  see  the  girl,"  was  the  remarkable  answer.  "  Just 
turning  the  corner,  next  to  the  right.  He  will  be  with 
her." 

"  No  go,"  muttered  the  conductor :  and  opening  the  bag, 
added  for  consolation,  "  It's  empty." 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  said  Jones,  as  he  swung  off.  "  I'm 
going  that  way,  and  I  had  a  look  at  him,  as  it  happens. 
I'm  quick  on  my  feet,"  he  added. 

"  It's  my  orders  to  hand  over "  the  man  was  begin- 


I34  DUKE  JONES 

ning,  when  he  caught  Jones'  eye.  It  was  not  the  eye  of  a 
thief,  to  that  experienced  observer  of  his  kind;  he  had 
even  experience  enough  to  know  it  was  the  contrary. 
"  Right,  sir,"  he  said,  delivering  it ;  and  added  with  con- 
descension, "  Go  it !  " 

"  I'll  take  it  to  your  place  if  I  miss  him,"  called  Jones, 
and  was  off.  The  people  on  the  omnibus-roof,  and  the 
conductor  on  the  steps  watched,  amused,  as  the  figure  of 
Jones  twisted  like  an  eel  through  the  congestion  on  the 
crowded  pavement,  and  made  for  the  corner  where  the 
pair  had  vanished.  It  was  a  very  godsend  to  have  this 
excuse  for  haste,  though  he  much  feared  he  had  already 
lost  his  trail. 

"  He'll  do  it,  I  bet,"  said  the  friendly  conductor,  glanc- 
ing upward  at  his  public  with  a  knowing,  sidelong  nod 
which  implied  a  recognition  of  the  sporting  style  of 
Jones :  and  turned  to  his  work  again. 

Jones  did  not  do  it.  He  did  not  even  try  to,  once  the 
corner  was  turned,  for  the  street  beyond  it  was  empty.  It 
was  not  for  the  sake  of  the  lost  property  that  he  regretted 
it,  honestly  bred  as  he  was,  and  righteous  in  all  his  in- 
stincts, for  he  knew  in  one  short  shock  at  the  moment  of 
receiving  it  that  what  he  held  was  not  the  dark  man's  prop- 
erty, still  less  Lisette's.  There  was  no  room  for  doubt, 
indeed,  as  to  the  ownership;  for  the  dark  leather  case, 
daintily  mounted,  had  three  small  initials  stamped  on  it 
clearly, — V.  I.  A. — and  he  knew,  even  in  detail,  what  they 
stood  for:  Violet  Ingestre  Ashwin, — her  maiden  name. 
The  information  about  Mrs.  Shovell  Jones  had  collected 
was,  by  this  time,  quite  as  varied  and  striking  as  that  which 
she  and  her  husband,  in  conjunction,  had  collected  about 
him ;  and  even  more  accurate,  for  Jones  had  little  imagina- 
tion, and  regarded  facts  as  more  generally  useful  and 
satisfactory.  A  seven  or  eight-hours'  railway  journey  in 
the  society  of  three  lively  and  loquacious  young  people  is 
likely  to  offer  a  store  of  facts  to  a  bystander  who  knows 
how  to  collect  them.  Jones  collected  his,  not  out  of  curi- 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  135 

osity  purely,  but  from  a  native  need  to  have  his  informa- 
tion well  packed  and  straight,  if  he  had  it  at  all ;  and  since, 
owing  to  their  charm,  he  could  not  but  attend  to  them,  he 
stored  steadily,  like  an  ant,  against  the  day  when  he  might 
need  the  knowledge. 

Well, — the  thing  being  her  property,  she  must  naturally 
have  it.  That  was  so  obvious  a  point  that  he  put  it  aside. 
Next  thought  to  this, — the  contents,  also  hers,  were  in  that 
dark  man's  pocket.  The  contents  did  not  include  the  neck- 
lace of  pearls.  Jones,  like  Violet,  thanked  Providence 
for  that,  and  not  his  own  prudence.  But  they  must,  on 
the  other  hand,  include  several  of  the  other  beautiful 
things  she  had  worn,  the  little  things  that  flashed  on  her 
fingers,  in  her  hair,  or  among  the  soft  folds  of  her  pretty 
bodices  in  Jones'  neighborhood  of  an  evening.  That 
struck  him  first;  then,  immediately  afterwards,  that  the 
girl  Lisette  would  "  catch  it "  from  a  man  with  a  face 
like  that,  if  he  came  to  know  that  she  had  missed  the  more 
valuable  booty — the  pearls.  That  is,  granted  she  had  been 
commissioned  to  steal, — there  remained  another  alter- 
native. A  whole  series  of  the  girl's  odd  little  defiant  tones 
and  expressions  came  back  to  his  mind  as  he  pondered 
her  bearing  and  weighed  her  conceivable  motives. 

"  She  said  I  could  have  anything  of  hers  I  wanted,  and 
I  shall.  People  should  say  what  they  mean,  shouldn't 
they  ?  "  He  could  hear  the  voice. 

It  would  have  been  just  like  Lisette, — Jones'  latest  con- 
ception of  Lisette, — to  take  the  pearls  out  of  sheer  wanton 
mischief,  after  that;  not  at  all  out  of  a  natural  bent  to- 
wards criminality, — such  a  girl  cannot  be  a  criminal.  She 
is  caught  and  punished  as  such  frequently,  and  lacerates 
all  thoughtful  folks'  minds  with  pity  when  she  is.  Society 
must  defend  itself  against  such  as  Lisette:  that  is  the  sole 
excuse  for  society  in  punishing ;  for  there  is  no  crime  to 
deal  with, — no  studied  crime, — and  the  punishment  is  so 
pitifully  useless  as  well. 

Alas !  Jones  saw  the  path  to  retribution  straight  ahead 


136  DUKE  JONES 

for  this  particular  errant  girl.  Not  society's  retribution, 
probably,  but  the  more  ruthless  revenge  of  nature  and  of 
fate.  Jones  could  not  word  his  thoughts,  like  Violet ;  but 
he  saw  the  vengeance  that  hovered  over  that  lovely  little 
sea-nymph  clearly :  close  above,  quite  ready  to  strike,  as  a 
vulture  strikes  a  dove.  The  victim  felt  the  shadow  al- 
ready ;  the  shadow  had  lain  in  her  eyes  as  she  faced  him 
carelessly  in  the  train.  It  was  odious  to  think  of, — un- 
thinkable,— except  that  Marmaduke  thought  it.  It  is  just 
such  men  as  Marmaduke  who  give  thought  to  the  un- 
thinkable most  steadily. 

Having  made  his  inquiries  fruitlessly,  and  considered, 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  the  next  thing  in  order.  He  took 
the  swiftest  cab  he  could  see,  and  drove  to  the  third  ad- 
dress on  his  list, — the  boarding-house. 

rv 

It  was  a  long  drive,  but  it  gave  him  time  on  the  way  to 
study  his  next  plans  in  the  campaign.  Arriving  at  the 
house,  a  plain  but  decent  building  in  the  west-central  quar- 
ter, he  inquired  if  a  Miss  Addenbroke  was  to  arrive  there 
that  night. 

"  No,  sir,    was  the  simple  answer. 

"No  lady  of  the  name  of  Poynter,  either?"  Jones 
supposed. 

"  A  lady  called  Poynter  was  to  have  come,  but  had  not 
yet  appeared.  They  supposed  she  had  missed  her  train." 

"If  she  comes  to-night,"  said  Jones,  "  will  you  have  the 
goodness  to  wire  me  here?"  He  handed  his  official  title 
and  his  club  address.  "  It  is  very  serious  news  for  her. 
And  please,  for  the  same  reason,  be  very  kind  and  careful 
of  her  till  I  come.  She  is  quite  young,  and  it  is  a  case  for 
caution,  if  you  understand." 

A  little  awed  by  his  manner,  which  was  vaguely  clerical, 
the  woman  agreed.  He  did  not  offer  money,  for  he  knew 
by  instinct  those  cases  where  money  impairs  the  moral 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  137 

effect.    This  woman  was  "  all  right "  to  Jones'  eye,  which 
was  a  certain  consolation. 

Leaving  that  loose  end  of  his  skein  knotted,  as  it  were, 
he  turned  to  the  next  thing.  He  went  to  the  police. 
Jones  had  various  links  with  the  London  police  force, 
owing  to  the  occasional  exigences  of  his  "  show  "  ;  and 
his  theory  was  that  an  application  at  once  in  that  quarter 
is  often  useful,  and  saves  time  and  trouble  in  the  end. 
It  saved  him  time,  remarkably.  He  went  to  a  local  sta- 
tion, in  the  unpleasing  quarter  where  Lisette  and  her 
escort  had  disappeared;  and  having  excellent  references 
to  offer,  he  received  after  quite  short  delay,  from  first- 
hand authority,  a  list  of  lodgings,  hotels  and  residences 
under  suspicion. 

He  made  the  round  of  the  hotels  first ;  and  by  what  he 
called  the  help  of  Heaven,  and  other  people  would  have 
called  an  unjustifiable  stroke  of  luck,  he  recovered  almost 
at  once  his  lost  scent.  Such  strokes  of  luck  among  the 
infinite  chances  of  large  towns  may  happen  to  sleuth- 
hounds  who  are  also  thoroughly  sensible  people. 

The  two  persons  described  had  come  to  the  hotel,  and 
the  young  lady  had  taken  a  room.  Her  beauty  had  been 
remarked,  as  usual,  and  interest  aroused  in  her,  so  that 
he  learnt  without  delay  the  facts  he  wanted.  As  to  the 
other  person,  the  people  of  the  hotel,  naturally,  "  had  no 
idea,"  as  soon  as  ever  Jones  alluded  to  the  police.  All 
ideas,  apparently,  were  far  from  their  minds,  especially 
as  this  gentleman,  missionary  or  whatever  he  was,  was 
startlingly  free  with  his  money.  They  would  do  anything 
whatever  for  him, — show  him  the  lady's  room?  Oh, 
certainly.  Jones  was  shown  the  room,  which  was  empty ; 
and  there  he  waited,  praying  possibly, — it  may  be  wiser 
not  to  ask.  There  were  two  bags  on  the  floor,  a  man's 
and  a  woman's ;  one  was  opened,  and  the  contents  tossed 
about.  On  the  bed  lay  a  woman's  white  shirt  and  felt 
hat, — both  of  which  he  knew  familiarly,  having  watched 
them  during  an  eight-hours'  journey.  It  would  not  have 


138  DUKE  JONES 

been  difficult  for  a  duller  man  than  Jones  to  deduce  that 
Miss  Lisette  had  put  on  Mrs.  Shovell's  moonlight  blouse, 
— he  clenched  his  hands  thinking  of  it, — and  gone  out 
hatless,  probably  not  very  far,  to  dine. 

Such  was  the  fact:  and  again  his  good  sense  that  was 
nearly  subtlety  brought  him  luck  that  was  doubtless  un- 
deserved,— for  the  girl  came  back  alone.  Later,  Jones 
learnt  that  the  man  wanted  to  examine  his  treasure-trove, 
the  jewels,  and  dispose  of  them  promptly  before  he  left 
the  town, — and  that  he  simultaneously  discovered  that 
the  pearls  of  which  the  girl  had  rashly  boasted  were  not 
among  them.  That  affected  nothing  at  the  time,  only  his 
behavior  later  as  regarded  Lisette. 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  said  Lisette  when  she  entered, 
stopping  to  stare  with  her  lovely  dilated  eyes.  "  Well, — 
what  next  ?  " 

Most  young  ladies  might  have  been  startled,  even  a 
little  alarmed,  at  finding  a  young  man,  with  an  air  of 
purpose,  sitting  in  their  chosen  apartment,  even  though 
it  should  be  such  a  simple-looking  specimen  as  Jones. 
Lisette  was  not  alarmed  particularly :  she  was  quite  pre- 
pared to  find  Mr.  Jones  amusing,  as  he  had  shown  him- 
self to  be  more  than  once  during  their  intercourse,  un- 
wittingly. Jones  had  quite  taken  Lisette's  fancy,  had  he 
wished  to  be  reassured,  by  showing  himself  so  infallibly 
"  shocked  "  at  whatever  she  said.  She  liked  him  a  good 
deal  better  than  Violet's  husband,  who  was  really,  she 
ultimately  decided,  by  far  the  more  "  stuck-up  "  of  the 
two.  Jones  was  a  "  good  sort,"  and  it  was  by  no  means 
in  his  disfavor  that  he  was  ridiculous.  People  were  often 
ridiculous,  at  least  in  Lisette's  neighborhood. 

For,  of  course,  Lisette  assumed  at  once,  on  his  turning 
up  again  so  soon  after  she  had  parted  with  him,  that 
Jones  had  fallen  head-over-ears  in  love  with  her  in  the 
train.  His  awkwardness  at  parting  was  now  accounted 
for  by  the  simple  fact  that  he  intended  to  see  her  again 
at  the  first  opportunity, — and  here  he  was.  There  was 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  139 

some  excuse  for  Lisette  in  so  reasoning  on  facts  ob- 
served, the  phenomenon  had  occurred  so  often  under  her 
eyes  since  she  was  seventeen  years  old.  She  was  old 
indeed, — far  older  than  Violet  Shovell, — in  that  experi- 
ence. Also,  like  Charles,  she  had  been  quite  cognizant 
of  those  frequent,  cautious  glances  directed,  as  she  would 
have  said,  "  to  her  address."  Lisette's  address  was  im- 
mensely popular  as  a  destination  for  glances,  even  if  no 
more  followed  them.  In  this  case,  Jones  had  followed 
his  glances, — that  was  all.  He  was  "  after  her  "  and  had 
consequently  found  her, — quite  superfluous  to  inquire 
how.  The  thing, — the  whole  of  the  thing, — had  hap- 
pened to  her  before. 

"  You  are  to  come  with  me  at  once,  Miss  Addenbroke," 
said  Marmaduke,  rising.  "  It's  an  unlucky  mistake,  of 
course,  no  fault  of  yours,  but  this  is  no  place  for  you  to 
be.  I've  explained  downstairs,  and  paid  them.  Mrs. 
Shovell  wouldn't  like  it  at  all,  you  know.  Come  now, — 
I  will  answer  questions  afterwards." 

"  Come  ? — where  ?  "  said  Lisette,  thoroughly  amazed 
and  faintly  frightened  at  his  manner.  She  resented  such 
high-handedness,  naturally;  yet  his  words  revived  her 
fears.  She  had  not  had  many,  as  yet,  having  been  treated 
most  skilfully  by  the  man  who  had  relieved  her  of  Violet's 
case.  She  had  explained  to  him  that  she  had  taken  it 
for  a  joke  and  meant  to  send  it  back,  when  she  had  worn 
the  pearls  once  or  twice,  of  course.  He  had  quite  under- 
stood, and  been  greatly  amused  by  the  jest;  only  he  had 
warned  her,  in  his  careful  foreign  English,  that  it  might  be 
as  well  not  to  wear  any  of  the  contents,  however  prettily 
they  matched  her  clothes,  in  the  restaurant  to  which  he 
was  taking  her  that  night.  She  had  given  in  with  a  pout, 
and  let  him  keep  them  safe,  according  to  his  idea,  and 
free  her  hands. 

"  To  the  Langham  Hotel,"  said  Jones  calmly,  mention- 
ing the  first  conspicuous  name  that  occurred  to  him. 
"  I'll  see  you  have  a  better  room  there  than  this.  That'll 


i4o  DUKE  JONES 

be  better  than  a  boarding-house  for  you,  anyhow, — 
they're  so  stodgy."  Seeing  her  instant  agreement  with  his 
view  of  the  case,  he  added  easily,  "  I'll  let  your  friends 
know  where  you  are." 

Lisette  bit  her  lip.  "  Friends  ?  Do  you  mean  her, — 
Violet?" 

"Yes.  You're  breaking  promises,  aren't  you?  You 
shouldn't  have  changed  till  to-morrow.  She  might  send, 
or  want  to  see  you.  They  would  have  lost  you  alto- 
gether." He  ignored  the  second  valise  on  the  floor,  and 
its  meaning,  most  utterly.  He  counted  on  her  confusion 
and  his  own  iron  determination  to  snatch  her  from  the 
coil.  Her  confusion  was  manifest,  pitiably. 

"  I — didn't  mean  to,"  she  stammered,  her  lip  trembling 
a  little  more.  "  I  wanted  to  have  a  drive  with  her  to- 
morrow,— or  Cousin  Eveleen,  one  of  them.  I  want  to 
see  the  Park,  you  know, — that  side.  I  didn't  want  to 
change."  She  looked  not  at  Jones,  but  all  round  him, 
with  her  singular  eyes.  "  I  don't  see  why  I  should  come 
with  you,  though,"  she  added.  "  I  don't  know  you 
specially.  Who's  to  pay  ?  " 

"  Not  you,  anyhow,"  said  Jones.    "  I'll  see  to  it." 

"  You're  well  off,  aren't  you  ?  "  said  Lisette. 

"  Pretty  well,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  I've  enough  for 
that." 

"  Don't  laugh,"  the  girl  said  angrily,  and  he  instantly 
turned  grave. 

"  You'll  be  all  right  there,  Miss  Lisette/'  he  said. 
"  Trust  me." 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  murmured,  still  looking  round  him. 
"  They  all  say  that."  Pity,  wide  and  impersonal,  swept 
over  the  man  again.  The  idea  of  this  lovely  empty  thing, 
on  the  world,  alone, — it  was  inconceivable. 

"  You  can't  want  to  stay  in  a  hole  like  this,"  he  said, 
coming  closer.  "  You  don't,  do  you  ?  It  smells,  and  it's 
horrid.  Why,  you  haven't  even  got  electric  light  1 " 

"  No,"  she  murmured,  "  it's  beastly ;  I  said  so."    Then 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  141 

she  decided,  with  a  flash  of  the  recklessness  which  was 
her  courage.  "  All  right, — I'll  come.  I  don't  care.  Big 
hotels  are  rather  a  lark.  Only  I'll  write  something  to 

leave,  you  know,  in  case "  She  failed  to  finish,  and 

licked  her  lips  with  her  little  pointed  tongue. 

"  That's  it,"  said  Jones,  assenting  in  his  most  ordinary 
manner.  "  Only  be  quick." 

"  I  shan't  mention  you,"  said  Lisette,  writing.  "  I'll 
just  say  I  changed  my  mind,  for  fun.  No  harm  in  that, 
is  there?" 

"  None,"  said  Jones. 

"  I  hadn't  meant  to  come  here,  you  know,"  she  went  on 
innocently.  "  But  they  don't  take  people  at  the  other 
place  for  a  short  time,  just  a  night  or  two.  I  have  got  to 
go  over  sooner  to  that  place  in  Paris, — sooner  than  I 
thought.  I've  just  heard.  It  put  me  out  a  bit."  She 
was  biting  her  lip  even  as  she  scribbled,  glancing  his  way. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Marmaduke,  looking  out  of  the 
window, — perhaps  the  flattest  lie  he  ever  told.  He  was 
devoured  with  impatience,  though  his  aspect  was  as  usual. 
She  was  a  bad  writer,  evidently, — slow.  In  people  whose 
natural  expression  was  line-drawing,  he  had  noticed  it 
before.  Thinking  hard,  putting  himself  in  her  place,  he 
was  beginning  to  get  the  "  hang  of  "  the  circumstances. 

Almost  immediately  after  she  had  signed  her  name  with 
a  triumphant  twirl,  glad  to  get  quit  of  it,  he  had  another 
piece  of  evidence  in  his  possession.  A  feather-head  like 
Lisette  was  easy  to  deceive,  which  was  as  well,  for  Jones 
was  not  a  skilled  deceiver.  As  he  followed  her  from  the 
room,  stooping  to  pick  up  her  bag,  he  snatched  with  his 
other  hand  at  the  note  behind  him,  and  just  captured  it 
without  turning.  As  he  followed  her  downstairs,  he  slid 
it  in  his  pocket  carelessly.  They  both  got  away  from  the 
place  without  mishap,  and  leaving  no  traces,  he  trusted, 
behind  them.  He  was  sure  at  least  of  the  hotel  people, 
whom  he  had  terrorized  with  powerful  names. 

When  he  had  installed  Felicia  and  her  belongings  in  all 


142  DUKE  JONES 

comfort  at  the  big  hotel  in  a  cheerful  quarter,  surround- 
ing her  loveliness  with  a  setting  more  appropriate  to  a 
"  lady's  "  delicate  needs ;  recommended  her  to  the  neces- 
sary attentions  of  the  staff,  with  the  necessary  stimulus 
from  his  pocket ;  and  talked  to  her  cheerfully  for  a  time 
to  calm  her  nerves,  which  were  on  edge, — he  left  her, 
went  to  his  club,  and  read  the  note.  It  was  ill  and  hastily 
written,  naturally,  and  aided  him  with  neither  name  nor 
address,  since  it  was  a  mere  message  left  for  the  finder. 
But  the  fact,,  of  course,  that  she  left  it,  suggested  friendly 
terms.  In  style  it  was  familiar,  since  she  was  that  to  all 
the  world.  It  witnessed  to  mischief  and  defiance,  some 
relish  in  disobeying  orders,  but  barely  a  hint  of  fear.  It 
gave  her  new  address,  with  exclamation  points,  frankly 
as  to  a  friend :  said  the  other  place  "  stank  "  and  she  did 
not  care  for  it,  that  her  cousin  had  given  her  money,  and 
she  did  not  see  why  she  should  not  spend  it  as  she  chose. 
This  last  was  the  lie  which,  according  to  Lisette's  artless 
idea,  protected  Jones. 

It  had  not  occurred  to  Jones  that  he  needed  protecting, 
and  it  was  some  time  before  he  perceived  the  full  bearing 
of  her  attitude, — her  conviction  that  in  moving  her  he 
was  playing  for  his  own  hand, — "  going  one  better  "  than 
the  other  man.  Why  should  he  come  after  her,  other- 
wise ?  Why  should  he  "  stick  "  her  in  that  pretty  room, 
and  propose  to  pay  her  bill  ?  He  was  simply  bidding  for 
her  favor,  and  bidding  in  rather  a  successful  manner, 
since  Lisette  loved  comfort,  and  his  rival  had  made  a 
false  move.  But  then,  his  rival  was  a  foreigner,  unused 
to  London,  hating  all  things  English — except  Lisette, — 
and  exalting  the  wonders  and  glories  of  Paris  which  he 
should  shortly  show  her.  That  was  evidently  the  more 
effective  course, — this  was  the  immediately  easy  one.  She 
would  sleep  on  the  choice,  and  meanwhile  it  was  really 
very  amusing  to  have  two  men  wrangling  over  her. 

In  short,  Lisette  "  jumped  on  Mr.  Jones'  cushion,"  to 
use  Violet's  little  phrase.  It  was  her  kitten  instinct  to 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  143 

do  so,  having  investigated  for  a  few  short  minutes  with 
one  of  her  pretty  grimaces.  There  was  a  good  prospect 
that  her  cousin,  arriving  in  a  smart  carriage  to-morrow, 
would  offer  her  a  better  cushion  still,  and  she  could 
investigate  the  charms  of  that  in  turn.  Of  course,  if  this 
second  man  proposed  to  marry  her, — she  judged  him  as 
that  kind, — it  might  be  more  amusing  to  be  married  than 
the  best  Violet  or  her  mother  could  offer.  Lisette  liked 
dignity  as  well  as  comfort,  and  she  had  a  weakness  in 
favor  of  the  married  state.  It  was  stately,  if  "  stuffy  "  a 
little.  Rags  from  her  father's  ideas,  and  tags  from  her 
mother's,  filled  Lisette's  foolish  little  head.  She  was  half 
adventuress,  half  aristocrat,  in  the  grain.  Honoria's 
trampling,  ultra-modern  theories  impressed  her  at  inter- 
vals, at  least  more  than  her  aunt's  drooping  sentiment  and 
rigid  propriety  on  the  subject.  She  wrinkled  her  nose  at 
matrimony  at  present,  as  at  everything  else,  dubiously. 
She  had  never  met  the  man  with  whom  she  would  care 
to  stop  for  long.  She  had  got  tired  of  the  sight  of 
Charles  in  two  days,  and  was  rather  surprised  at  Violet 
for  tolerating  him.  He  was  not  Lisette's  idea  at  all. 
This  Mr.  Jones  was  extremely  ordinary, — she  had  got 
sick  of  his  features  trying  to  draw  him  that  day, — but 
he  was,  on  the  other  hand,  extremely  amusing  to  tease, 
useful  in  emergency  to  turn  to,  and  he  had  a  long  purse. 
It  might  be  on  the  cards  that  he  was  worth  taking,  if  only 
to  surprise  Violet  in  the  letter  with  which  she  sent  back 
the  jewels.  She  would  see,  on  the  morrow, — if  nothing 
happened. 

She  went  to  sleep  in  rather  a  good  world,  full  of  cush- 
ions ;  and  the  black  tunnel,  vaguely  discerned  at  intervals, 
full  of  dim  terrors,  had  receded. 

Jones,  meanwhile,  reached  the  decision  first,  that  he 
could  do  no  more  for  the  minute  to  help  the  girl  in  per- 
son :  and  secondly,  that  in  Miss  Lisette's  desolate  situation 
women  were,  above  all,  necessary. 


144  DUKE  JONES 

As  to  the  first,  he  had  no  definite  evidence  before  him 
that  warranted  him  to  set  an  official  watch  upon  the  man. 
He  could  not  yet  even  be  proved  a  thief,  far  less  the  more 
sinister  thing  Jones  was  after.  He  had  nothing  but  ap- 
pearances to  go  upon,  which  was  no  evidence  at  all.  He 
might  even  be  deluded  by  a  common  prejudice  against  a 
foreigner, — a  prejudice  of  which,  in  himself,  Jones  was 
aware.  Both  he  and  Violet  were  acting  on  instinct  purely 
in  the  matter,  instinctive  knowledge  of  the  girl,  realization 
of  her  amazing  and  evidently  marketable  charms,  and  the 
kind  of  covetousness  they  might  produce.  They  had  no 
case  for  a  police  court,  absolutely  none;  nor  reason  to 
suspect  worse  than  some  furious  lover,  temporarily  mad- 
dened by  her  beauty,  following  her  in  all  honesty  and  for 
his  love's  sake  alone.  A  complete  stranger  cannot  save  a 
girl  from  her  lovers,  especially  a  girl  of  breeding  and 
high  family,  without  impertinence.  No  man  can  do  so. 
Women,  even  in  that  case,  were  still  essential  to  his  cause. 

To  make  for  women's  aid  was  no  more  than  a  theory  of 
Jones',  as  we  have  said,  bred  in  him  by  early  education. 
But  he  was  shy  of  women  in  the  walks  of  life,  and  pre- 
ferred, where  possible,  to  deal  with  them  through  their 
husbands.  This  is  a  peculiarity,  not  of  Joneses  alone,  but 
of  countless  young  men  of  his  age,  in  all  societies  through- 
out the  world.  It  is  quite  natural  and  defensible,  but  it  led, 
in  this  case,  to  his  first  mistake :  one  may  say  to  his  first 
two  serious  mistakes. 

His  note  to  Shovell,  just  mentioning  that  he  had  heard 
from  Miss  Addenbroke  her  boarding-house  was  no  go, 
and  she  had  moved  to  the  Langham  by  his  advice,  was 
the  slighter  error.  It  made  Charles  at  the  breakfast-table 
whistle, — happening  to  be  seated  alone  there,  for  he  had 
kept  Violet,  by  force,  in  bed.  Thus  Charles  whistled  pri- 
vately, and  did  not  immediately  tell  his  wife.  It  was  really 
too  disturbing  to  his  late  theories  on  the  subject,  that  ad- 
mirable Jones,  acting  on  his  own,  should  move  Lisette  to 
the  Langham ;  yet  it  looked  like  that.  It  disturbed, — up- 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  145 

rooted, — a  private  theory  of  Charles'  as  well  as  to  the  con- 
dition of  admirable  Jones'  affections.  It  needed  thinking 
over,  and  he  had  no  present  leisure  to  think.  He  put  it 
off,  and  went  to  his  office  without  telling  Violet:  not 
supposing, — since  he  had  commanded  her  to  stay  in  bed, 
— that  she  had  any  intentions  on  Lisette  that  morning.  She 
had  nearly  worried  herself  ill  about  the  girl  as  it  was.  If 
he  had  time,  he  might  himself  look  in  at  the  Langham  and 
get  news  of  Lisette  during  the  lunch  interval.  This  oppor- 
tunity, it  may  be  mentioned,  did  not  occur, — or  else  Mr. 
Shovell  forgot. 

Jones'  second  mistake,  of  exactly  the  same  nature,  was 
more  serious  than  this,  though  to  his  mind  it  was  an 
extraordinarily  obvious  thing  to  do.  Late  on  the  same 
evening  that  he  installed  Lisette  at  the  Langham,  to  make 
assurance  doubly  sure,  a  thing  he  loved  to  do,  he  went  into 
a  public  telephone  office,  and  rang  up  Sir  Claude  Ashwin. 
This  constituted,  of  course,  a  ticklish  and  cheeky  proceed- 
ing; but  the  matter  was  ticklish,  and  admitted  cheek. 
It  was  better  to  "  get  on  to  a  good  man,"  in  Jones'  modest 
phrase ;  and  one  who  was,  at  least  by  marriage,  related  to 
the  lonely  girl. 

Jones  "  got  on  "  pretty  promptly  to  Sir  Claude  Ashwin's 
house,  but  not  to  himself.  It  was  the  secretary  who  an- 
swered, and  the  doctor  was  out.  He  would  not  be  in  till 
very  late,  probably.  Was  it  serious  ? 

"  Dash !  "  said  Jones, — not  into  the  telephone,  but  the 
secretary  happened  to  hear.  He  took  it  calmly,  for  he  was 
used  to  that  sort  of  remark,  through  this  particular  tube, 
at  just  such  a  juncture,  daily. 

"  It's  important  and  private,"  Jones  observed  to  the 
telephone.  "  I'm  the  secretary  of  the  S.P.X.Z.  Know  it?  " 

"  Yes."    Sir  Claude's  representative  knew  it  well. 

"  Think  I've  written  to  you,"  observed  Jones,  as  man  to 
man.  "  You  wouldn't  remember,  so  never  mind.  Is  Lady 
Ashwin  at  home  ?  " 

Lady  Ashwin  was,  as  it  happened. 


146  DUKE  JONES 

"  Would  she  be  so  awfully  good  as  to  come  a  minute  ? 
Private  matter,  you  know." 

"  Well, — I'll  see."  The  secretary  sounded  dubious.  As 
a  fact,  Mr.  Ford,  the  secretary,  knew  that  Lady  Ashwin 
loathed  telephones,  and  would  be  extremely  angry  at  being 
disturbed  for  such  a  purpose  at  such  an  hour.  He  could 

if  really  necessary,  of  course,  but He  was  a  nice, 

easy-mannered  young  man,  and  liked  things  pleasant  in 
the  house.  He  waited  a  minute,  and  then,  leaning  to  the 
tube,  he  said, — man  to  man,  like  Jones : 

"  I  say ! — I'm  sorry,  but  Lady  Ash  win's  rather  busy  just 
now.  If  it's  anything  of  that  kind,  better  tell  me,  or  Mrs. 
Shovell.  That's  the  daughter  .  .  .  young,  you  know, 
but  awf'ly  clever  and  kind.  I  can  give  you  her  address, 
and  she's  at  home.  .  .  .  Lately  married,"  he  added. 
"You'd  be  safe." 

Safe!  Another  pause,  in  this  unexpectedly  romantic 
conversation.  Two  hearts,  if  the  telephone  operators  had 
known  it,  were  beating  in  full  accord  at  either  end  of  one 
of  their  wires :  the  hearts  of  two  young  gentlemen  who 
had  never  met,  and  only  corresponded  once  upon  a  per- 
fectly indifferent  matter.  It  was  unheard-of  as  a  coin- 
cidence, and  would  have  made,  in  itself,  a  capital  romance, 
if  properly  worked  out  and  mounted  adequately. 

"  Beastly  sorry,"  said  Jones  back,  after  the  pause, 
across  the  impenetrable  barrier  of  the  public  wire.  "  Not 
that, — family  matter,  you  know — urgent.  Tell  Lady  Ash- 
win  at  once,  would  you  awf'ly  mind  ?  " 

"  Right,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  resigned. 

After  a  pause, — a  very  long  one,  during  which  he  was 
rung  off,  and  on  again, — Jones  "  got  on  to  "  Lady  Ash- 
win,  Mrs.  Shovell's  mother,  surely  a  capital  card  to  play, 
in  a  case  like  this.  In  the  interval,  he  had  been  congratu- 
lating himself,  though  he  felt  shy  a  trifle,  naturally.  This 
was  a  lady  of  title,  a  real  one, — not  Lisette.  Why,  she  was 
actually  the  bond  of  connection  between  Mrs.  Shovell  and 
Miss  Addenbroke:  she  constituted  the  link:  Jones  had 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  147 

made  that  out  from  Lisette's  artless  references.  .  .  . 
An  excellent  card, — even  better  than  Sir  Claude. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  said  her  ladyship,  in  a  deliberate 
clear  tone  that  carried  well  for  telephone  purposes. 

Jones  stated  the  facts  very  baldly :  the  facts  of  the  girl's 
change  of  address,  and  that  it  was  advisable  she  should  be 
protected  soon.  "  I  thought  it  better  to  tell  Sir  Claude," 
he  added  simply. 

Thank  goodness  Ford  had  had  the  sense  to  call  her, 
thought  Eveleen.  Claude  might  have  come  in,  and  heard 
of  it,  and  she  would  have  had  to  go  through  all  that 
again.  Once  in  an  evening  was  quite  enough.  What  she 
said  was — 

"  Are  you  the  police  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Jones,  thinking  it  a  most  sensible  question. 
She  had  evidently  followed  him,  got  all  the  way,  and  was, 
as  evidently,  one  of  the  people  who  saved  time.  Just  such 
a  mother  as  Mrs.  Shovell  should  have,  and  probably  a 
person  who  acted  promptly.  "  There's  no  need  for  that," 
he  explained,  "  at  least  at  present.  I  shall  be  glad  to  come 
round,  Lady  Ashwin,  if  you  have  a  minute." 

"  Thanks,  but  I've  heard  about  it,"  said  her  ladyship. 
"  I  had  meant  to  go.  It's  only  the  address." 

"  Pardon,"  said  Jones.  "  Three-seven,  at  the  Langham, 
then ;  second  floor.  Is  that  all  right  ?  She'll  do  for  the 
moment,  but  might  be  followed  there.  Catches  attention, 
you  know,  too  easily.  The  sooner  the  better  to-morrow,  I 
should  say.  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me  troubling  you." 

"  All  right,"  said  Eveleen,  without  exhibiting  the  small- 
est curiosity  as  to  who  he  was.  If  the  public  telephone 
had  developed  a  metallic  voice  and  preached,  Eveleen 
would  barely  have  felt,  and  certainly  not  expressed,  sur- 
prise. She  was  receiving  a  useful  bit  of  information  from 
somebody  somewhere;  that  was  all.  Really,  she  began 
to  want  to  have  a  look  at  this  Lisette.  Even  the  telephone, 
— vaguely  representing  London  at  large, — seemed  to  take 
an  interest  in  her  perilous  attractions. 


i48  DUKE  JONES 

"  Thanks.  Then  I  can  leave  it  to  you  ?  "  said  the  tele- 
phone voice. 

"  All  right,"  said  Lady  Ashwin  again,  and  shut  him  off. 

All  right, — twice  over, — and  in  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Shov- 
ell's  mother,  Sir  Claude's  wife,  evidently  a  lady  of  few 
words,  and  deeds  as  prompt.  Lisette  was  doubly  all  right, 
then,  surely.  So  Jones  went  back  to  his  club,  where  he 
was  staying  temporarily,  reached  his  room,  and  having 
said  his  prayers  (presumably)  went  to  bed.  The  little 
jewel-case  with  its  three  letters,  empty  of  its  treasure,  lay 
close  to  him  on  the  table.  It  had  reached  home  before  him 
by  special  messenger,  and  lay  awaiting  him  invitingly.  Its 
leather  scent,  vaguely  pleasing,  had  caught  the  scent  of 
violets  as  vaguely,  possibly  from  a  late  handkerchief 
within ;  so  that  to  every  sense  it  was  sweet,  for  one  night, 
to  have  it  near. 


Life  promised  complications  enough  to  Mrs.  Shovell 
those  first  days  in  her  new  home.  Not  that  Violet  minded 
that.  It  was  deeply  interesting,  though  unusual,  the  state 
of  things  in  her  house, — promising  in  every  direction,  but 
barely  finished  anywhere.  Her  father's  intervention, 
though  at  the  eleventh  hour,  had  done  marvels,  as  she 
expected;  and  her  interior,  very  far  from  the  chaos  he 
had  promised  her,  was  already  charming;  but  there  was 
still  immensely  much  to  do,  at  least  for  an  Ashwin  born, 
with  the  critical  instinct  greatly  over-developed,  and  a 
passionate  love  of  abstract  beauty  and  cleanliness,  in  a 
situation  where  it  was  really  almost  impossible  to  compass 
either.  Fortunately,  her  small  domestic  staff  proved  kind 
and  competent :  one,  transferred  from  the  servants'  hall  of 
her  father's  house,  being  accustomed  to  "  Miss  Violet's  " 
ways ;  the  other  a  rosy  little  Swiss,  very  young,  but  tract- 
able, and  cheerful  even  to  exaggeration,  so  that  she 
amused  them  both. 

Mrs.  Shovell  accepted  breakfast  in  her  room  the  first 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  149 

morning,  since  Charles  was  a  nuisance  about  it :  but  she 
was  up  and  about  as  soon  as  he  had  disappeared ;  and  in 
spite  of  the  charms  of  her  workmen,  and  their  evident 
openness  to  reason  when  properly  addressed  and  soothed, 
by  ten  o'clock  she  was  on  her  way,  in  a  carriage,  to  Lisette. 
She  bore  with  her  a  note,  just  in  case  naughty  Lisette 
should  be  out,  containing  a  pressing  though  playfully 
worded  invitation,  on  the  part  of  her  and  her  husband — 
she  calmly  faced  the  work  of  it — to  come  and  stay  with 
her,  and  help  her  finish  off  the  house,  until  such  time  as 
she  should  have  to  go  abroad. 

Reaching  the  boarding-house,  she  was  greatly  rebuffed 
and  startled  at  the  news.  Lisette  had  not  come  at  all: 
and  a  gentleman  had  come  inquiring  for  her,  soon  after 
she  should  have  been  there.  Begging  to  know  what  sort 
of  gentleman,  Violet  was  informed  he  looked  like  one  of 
those  missionaries,  but  not  a  clergyman.  More  and  more 
remarkable !  The  company  Lisette  expected  seemed  to  be 
good, — Mr.  Jones  seemed  to  be  wrong, — but  why  was 
Lisette  herself  not  there  to  see  her  visitor?  It  was  all 
very  mysterious  and  annoying  indeed,  and  she  barely 
knew  where  next  to  turn. 

She  drove  home,  considering  it.  It  seemed  useless  to  do 
anything  for  the  moment,  or  worry  Charles  at  the  office 
merely  because  she  was  worried  herself.  She  reproached 
herself  sharply,  at  intervals,  for  not  having  brought  the 
girl  home,  in  spite  of  Charles,  the  night  before.  It  might 
perhaps  have  been  accomplished  if — well,  if  Charles 
had  been  a  little  different  from  what  he  was, — less 
domestic,  let  us  say.  His  instincts  were  domestic  in  the 
extreme ;  more  so  perhaps  than  Violet's.  This  is  a  painful 
thing  for  a  woman  to  confess,  even  to  herself ;  and  it  is 
probable  no  one  but  Violet  would  have  admitted  it,  had 
they  seen  her  playing  with  her  workmen  that  morning,  and 
measuring  her  curtains  with  an  anxious  brow.  She  was 
capable  of  doing  these  things — very  well — and  thinking  of 
Lisette  simultaneously,  that  was  all. 


150  DUKE  JONES 

She  looked  forward  to  a  day  of  mental  torment  on  the 
subject  of  the  girl,  but  very  likely  she  was  a  fool.  Lisette 
would  write  to  her  anyhow,  she  believed.  So  Violet  dis- 
missed her  carriage  at  her  door,  and  devoted  herself  to 
her  workmen,  who  had  all  done  wrong  impulsively  in  her 
absence,  with  the  very  best  intentions;  and  interpreted 
adroitly  between  the  Scotch  cook  and  the  Swiss  parlor- 
maid, who — also  with  the  best  intentions — occasionally 
failed  to  understand  one  another;  and  planned  out  a 
Dutch  garden  for  the  spring-time,  pacing  about  her  tiny 
parterre  behind  the  house ;  and  tried  to  forget — in  vain. 

She  proved  right  at  least  as  to  one  thing.  She  was  the 
one  person  who  received  a  first-hand  communication 
from  Felicia.  It  reached  her  through  the  post  at  dinner- 
time, just  after  her  father  had  left  the  house,  Charles 
having  that  instant  returned  to  it.  He  actually  brought 
the  letter  in,  with  an  idle  comment  on  the  hand  that  wrote 
it,  which  had  evidently  been  in  haste,  to  say  the  least.  It 
maddened  Charles  above  all  that  the  doctor  had  just 
gone  down  his  steps,  beyond  recall, — for  Violet  nearly 
fainted. 

Her  shocked  face  as  she  read  the  note  brought  him  to 
her  side  instantly,  and  he  shared  it,  one  arm  holding  her 
up,  steadying  the  shaking  page  with  the  other  hand.  His 
own  calm  was  perfect,  though  his  brow  was  set.  The 
opening  was  extraordinary,  and  made  him  stare  even 
more  than  she  had  done,  before  he  proceeded  to  the 
rest. 

"  Haven't  you  missed  your  pearls?  "  Lisette  began  in  a 
childish,  rather  shaky  scrawl.  "  I  saw  a  man  at  the  sta- 
tion with  the  box  in  his  hand.  I  think  it  was  yours.  He 
took  it  away  before  I  could  stop  him.  I  could  not  stop  to 
tell  you  then ;  I  had  to  get  on.  You  won't  see  them  again, 
I  think,  he  had  a  [beastly — erased]  not  a  good  face.  Don't 
have  me  to  a  police  court,  I  did  not  see  him  enough.  I 
swear  it,  Bible  swearing.  That's  all  about  it." 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  151 

Having  thus  declared  it  "  all,"  she  proceeded,  the  writ- 
ing a  little  stronger,  as  though  the  feeling  gathered  force : 

"  Cousin  Eveleen  came  in  the  carriage.  We  had  a  bit 
of  a  row,  not  a  bad  one.  She  does  not  tell  lies,  she  is  the 
other  sort.  Better  than  Aunt  Agnes ;  I  liked  her  rather. 
I'd  rather  anyhow  people  say  what  they  mean.  She  gave 
me  money  to  go  home,  but  I  shall  keep  it  now.  I  thought 
she  might  take  me  for  a  drive;  I  asked.  I  always  ask 
what  I  want  [something  erased].  I  should  like  to  come 
to  you  to  stop,  but  not  while  he  is  there.  I  know  he  would 
be  fit  to  curse  having  me ;  I  told  her  so.  She  said  it  would 
not  matter  for  a  bit,  but  I  said  that  was  rot.  Married, 
they  all  do  mind.  I  like  you  best  of  any  I  have  seen,  any- 
how. If  Honoria  comes  and  you  set  her  after  me  [an- 
other black  erasure,  probably  the  place]  I  shall  damn  you 
all  the  same,  Violet,  like  the  rest.  Bad  word,  do  not  show 
him ;  make  him  cross  again.  It's  not  worth  it " 

And  therewith  a  perfectly  unreadable  signature. 

"  That's  lying,"  gasped  Violet,  pointing  to  the  first  part, 
"  all  that.  Look  at  the  writing  even, — she  is  desperate. 
Only  the  end  is  true.  .  .  .  Not  even  a  drive,  though 
she  asked  for  it!  .  .  .  Horrible  of  Mother, — oh, 
poor  little  thing!  I  would  go  now  if — I  did  not  feel  so 
sick.  .  .  .  Can  you  get  me  a  cab,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Charles.  "  Not  yet.  All  right,  my  sweet, 
— don't  you  move."  He  was  bitterly  anxious — not  for 
Lisette.  He  hardly  thought  of  Lisette. 

"  I  have  you,"  murmured  Violet,  her  gray  eyes  looking 
immense  in  her  white  face.  "  And  she's  afraid — already. 
That  man  made  her  write,  Charles.  You  understand? 
He's  a  foreigner — or  he  would  have  tried  lying  himself, 
— and  better  than  that.  She  can't  do  it  on  paper.  Poor 
baby.  .  .  .  She  took  my  case,  you  know,  the  jewels. 
I  did  not  tell  you, — quite  at  once.  I  told  Father, — what 
was  necessary." 

"  Be  quiet,"  said  Charles  angrily.     "  Don't  talk.     I'll 


152  DUKE  JONES 

go  when  you're  all  right.  You  have  to  leave  this  to  me." 
Yet  every  word  she  said,  giddy  as  she  was,  was  enlighten- 
ment. 

"The  address  is  on  the  paper,  isn't  it?"  she  asked,  a 
hand  across  her  eyes. 

He  assented,  after  a  glance.  It  was  the  Langham 
paper :  useless  to  tell  Violet,  of  course,  that  he  had  known 
the  address  all  day.  The  girl  who  wrote  this  was  beyond 
addresses  by  now. 

"  Charles,"  she  murmured,  eyes  closed,  presently.  "  For 
five  minutes,  lying  here,  I  have  wished  myself  free.  She 
would  have  come  to  me,  when  Mother  failed.  Yes,  she 
would  have  come." 

"  Anybody  would  come  to  you  anywhere,"  said  Charles, 
— stupidly,  really.  He  might  have  known  she  did  not  want 
that, — spoonfuls  of  sugar,  when  you  are  sick  for  another 
girl's  pain. 

"  That  is  not  what  I  mean,"  she  said  painfully.  "  You 
prevented  her.  It  is  that  dreadful — Ingestre — knowledge 
of  men." 

"  I  know,"  he  said  doggedly.  "  But  she's  right.  I 
wouldn't  have  had  her  here.  I  can't  want  her  now.  I 
dare  say  I  should  be  better  if  I  could." 

Violet  thought — "  Jones  could,"  but  she  did  not  say  it. 
The  thought  merely  crossed  her  languid  mind,  since  she 
had  been  studying  Jones  quite  lately,  and  forgot  nothing, 
— unlike  Charles.  She  wished  Charles  would  leave  her, 
with  the  impatience  of  conscious  weakness, — not  look  at 
her,  at  least, — not  kiss  her  above  all.  She  could  hardly 
bear  it,  thinking  of  Lisette, — yet  a  woman  must  bear. 

"  I  can  manage  now,"  she  said  wearily.  "  Get  the  cab : 
I  am  coming." 

"  No,  darling,"  pleaded  Charles.  "  You  can't,— it's  no 
use, — she  must  be  gone.  She  would  never  have  written 
like  that  if  you  had  a  chance  of  reaching  her.  The  post- 
mark is  Victoria, — look.  And  anyhow  you  can't  do  it. 
Let  me  send  for  Sir  Claude." 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  153 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Quite  useless,  that  above  all.  I 
can't  tell  him  a  thing  at  present.  I  only  thank  goodness 
he  was  gone.  Father  must  know  nothing  of  this,  please, 
— ever.  Remember  that.  I  can't  think  much,  but  that  is 
clear.  Mother  understood, — I  had  told  her."  She  shud- 
dered so  that  he  felt  it.  "  The  worst — she  has  ever  done." 

"  Your  father  ought  to  know,"  said  Charles.  "  About 
this,  at  least ;  you're  ill." 

"  Nonsense,"  she  said  impatiently.  "  It  is  helpless  fury, 
and  remorse, — hands  tied.  Doctors  can't  cure  that.  It  is 
life, — and  the  family.  Get  the  cab." 

He  got  it,  and  took  her  inside  it,  as  need  not  be  said. 
Violet,  even  in  faintness,  got  her  way. 

"  Stay  there,"  he  directed  her  shortly,  at  the  hotel 
entrance.  "  I  will  go  and  see." 

She  obeyed,  lying  quietly  in  her  place,  glad  enough  not 
to  have  to  move.  Charles  came  back  to  her  quite  soon, 
and  his  face,  rather  grim  beneath  the  lights,  told  his  tale. 

"  Hopeless,"  he  said.  "  Gone  hours  since."  And  then 
to  the  driver — "  Home." 

"  Scotland  Yard,"  said  Violet,  gently  from  weakness, 
but  in  her  dryest  tone. 

"  That's  been  done  already,"  said  Charles.  "  Some  sort 
of  missionary,  those  people  thought, — on  the  tracks  of  the 
gang,  if  it  is  one.  I  saw  the  manager — frightfully  apolo- 
getic, but  washes  his  hands,  of  course.  They  were  off 
before  eleven,  and  this  other  fellow  came  in  soon  after. 
He  was  primed  apparently,  just  examined  the  servants, 
cursed  a  little,  I  presume,  since  they  were  cringing,  and 
went  straight  off  to  the  Yard.  One  of  these  societies 
probably, — there  are  heaps.  He'll  see  to  details  best. 
But  it's  a  poor  chance  I  should  say,"  added  Charles. 

"  Odd,"  said  Violet,  low.  "  A  missionary, — it  must  be 
the  same."  She  thought  of  the  woman  of  the  boarding- 
house.  "  Still,  I'd  rather  go,"  she  added,  rousing.  "  They 
might  want  help, — money." 

"  Well,  you  won't  go  to-night,"  said  Charles.    "  Sorry, 


154  DUKE  JONES 

my  dear,  but  there  are  limits.    I've  not  had  my  dinner." 

To  be  sure,  he  was  hungry:  poor  Charles.  He  had 
worked  all  day.  "  I'll  go  when  I've  seen  you  rest  and 
feed,"  he  added,  relenting  and  humoring  her.  "  I  can  find 
out  what  the  second  man  was  after  if  you  like.  But 
later, — no  hurry  about  that.  The  manager  said  he  had  a 
list  of  all  the  trains.  Those  fellows  are  as  keen  as 
knives." 

What  fellows  he  did  not  define :  the  seething  commun- 
ity who  interested  themselves  in  crime  and  the  miseries 
that  lead  to  it,  most  probably.  Charles  had  not  got  society 
on  the  brain,  like  Jones.  For  the  moment,  the  society  of 
one  was  all  he  asked, — and  he  rather  doubted  if  he  had 
got  her  thoroughly.  Still  turned  from  him,  her  head  back 
as  though  for  air,  and  her  fine  hands  clenched  on  the 
cushion  at  her  sides,  she  wished  to  know  if  the  man, — 
the  man, — had  been  seen. 

"  Yes,"  said  Charles  curtly.  "  He  fetched  her.  Looked 
all  right,  and  took  them  in  easily.  He  seemed  in  a  hurry, 
they  said." 

He  did  not  add  that  "  the  "  man  had  been  noticed  by 
some  of  the  staff  to  be  in  a  towering  rage.  Exactly  how 
much  sympathy  for  Violet,  and  how  much  fellow-feeling 
for  his  own  sex  in  the  abstract,  and  their  wrongs  as  re- 
garded women's  unreasonable  behavior,  prompted  this 
reticence  on  his  part,  need  not  be  asked.  He  felt  injured 
at  the  moment,  and  in  need  of  attention.  He  also  wanted 
to  turn  her  attention,  by  force  if  necessary,  upon  herself : 
since  she  was  his,  and  worth  six  of  Lisette.  Six! — six 
hundred :  he  felt  a  touch  of  contempt  for  the  girl,  it  must 
be  owned, — though  of  course  he  was  sorry.  It  was  a 
hateful  business,  and  he  loathed  that  Violet  should  have 
to  think  of  it.  It  was  not  that  he  believed  there  was  any- 
thing to  be  done  about  it, — that  a  girl  could  do  anything, 
above  all:  especially  the  girl  who  was  his  wife.  Charles 
really  represented,  had  he  known  it,  the  domestic  priest, 
— -a  type  found  as  often  among  male  as  female  kind, — 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  155 

lighting  the  holy  fires  on  the  hearth,  his  sanctuary,  in  a 
temple  swept  and  garnished  by  his  goddess'  own  hands. 
He  wanted  very  sorely  to  retain  those  hands  to  his 
temple's  services,  and  to  kick  this  ugly  intrusive  thing 
aside, — the  thing  on  which,  turned  from  him,  her  eyes 
were  fixed.  There  is  much  to  be  said  for  Charles'  atti- 
tude, too ;  even  from  the  wider  social  standpoint,  it  need 
not  be  utterly  despised.  She  saw  it  very  dimly,  perhaps, 
among  the  pressing  mass  of  thoughts  that  threatened  to 
overwhelm  her:  and  she  did  not  find  him  purely  selfish, 
or  unreasonable  utterly,  though  hard  at  the  moment  to 
bear. 

"  I  am  not  ill,  you  know,"  she  said,  later  in  the  evening, 
when  it  seemed  necessary.  "  Father  agrees  I  am  particu- 
larly well, — a  triumph." 

"  All  right,"  said  Charles  grudgingly.  He  seemed  to 
imply,  his  father-in-law  might  pretend  to  know  about 
Violet,  but  he  knew  best. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  rather  silly  about  me,"  said 
Violet,  making  a  discovery.  "  There  will  be  a  reaction, 
some  day." 

Charles  thought  this  simply  not  worth  replying  to.  He 
was  finishing  his  dinner  heartily,  and  she  was  on  the  sofa. 
She  had  made  a  certain  pretense  of  eating  to  please  him, 
but  that  was  all,  for  her  sickness  had  been  no  idle  plaint. 
She  was  more  capable  of  talking  than  of  eating,  a  good 
deal, — she  could  always  talk.  The  dining-room  was  the 
only  one  in  the  house  that  was  finished  completely,  and 
they  were  practically  living  there  for  the  present.  Unlike 
many  dining-rooms,  it  was  a  particularly  charming  place ; 
not  large,  but  elegant  in  its  proportions,  and  in  its  decora- 
tion, evidently  studied  by  authority  in  their  absence.  In- 
deed, Sir  Claude,  a  person  of  theories,  had  chosen  it  for 
first  completion,  and  concentrated  upon  it  expressly.  It 
was  Father's  opinion,  Violet  told  Charles,  that  among  the 
many  departments  of  family  life,  digestion  was  not  the 
least  essential  function, — and  walls  of  that  color  helped. 


156  DUKE  JONES 

She  was  decidedly  amusing  on  the  subject  of  her  father 
and  his  cranks — physiological,  artistic  and  otherwise. 
She  laid  the  horror  of  Lisette  aside,  shelved  her  private 
emotions,  and  amused  him,  while  he  ate,  with  tales  of 
her  father  and  the  workmen,  as  she  well  knew  how. 
Something,  either  the  color-scheme  of  the  digestive 
dining-room,  or  Violet's  confidences,  seemed  to  have  a 
happy  effect  on  Charles.  He  recovered  his  temper  with 
praiseworthy  rapidity,  and  ate  abundantly  of  everything. 
At  intervals,  he  begged  his  wife  not  to  talk,  with  much 
feeling;  but  between- whiles  he  approved  her  efforts,  fed 
himself,  and  smoked. 

Once  or  twice  during  that  evening  Violet  thought  of 
Jones  again:  exactly  why  she  could  not  say:  perhaps 
because  Charles  was  so  handsome  and  so  hungry  and  so 
charming, — and  so  ridiculously  fond  of  her.  He  was  like 
a  big  Newfoundland  dog, — nothing  like  either  a  sleuth- 
hound,  or  a  plain  black-and-tan  terrier,  looking  out  on 
life  and  man  with  a  sensible  and  wary  eye.  The  contrast 
was  certainly  very  marked  between  the  two  young  men. 

It  was  useless  to  think  of  writing  to  Mr.  Jones  to-night 
that  the  moment  had  come,  and  the  need,  for  him  to  go 
to  Paris, — she  simply  had  not  the  brains.  She  could  not 
drag  her  thoughts  along,  nor  clear  their  tangle  sufficiently. 
They  might  not  be  in  Paris, — there  were  other  towns. 
Jones  was  in  his  comfortable  home,  down  in  Surrey, 
somewhere  in  the  Leatherhead  district,  and  it  was  too 
late;  they  must  have  crossed  the  sea, — Lisette  must  be 
on  the  further  side,  lost, — a  tossing  chip  on  the  waves,  in 
Paris,  or  some  other  great  rattling,  ruthless  town.  It  was 
far  too  late.  It  would  be  silly  to  send  Mr.  Jones  to  Paris 
on  no  scent, — with  no  knowledge  of  trains  or  boats  to 
guide  him.  He  would  probably,  being  so  thoroughly  sen- 
sible, refuse  to  go.  It  was  better  to  consider  Lisette 
dead, — negatively  murdered  by  Violet's  mother.  A 
negative  murder  meant  one  accomplished  by  not  doing 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  157 

anything,  and  merely  looking  beautifully  on  at  life, — by 
taking  what  came,  by  not  fussing,  in  short.  Violet  had 
been  perfectly  aware,  all  the  time  she  talked  divertingly 
to  Charles,  that  she  was  fussing, — like  an  Ashwin, — 
abominably. 

Fruitlessly,  too ;  she  repeated  to  herself  the  futility,  the 
vanity  of  dwelling  on  it  even,  as  soon  as  Charles  left  her 
a  moment,  in  the  silence  and  shadow  she  adored.  Alone 
at  last,  she  could  think  more  lucidly,  and  thinking,  saw 
that  he  was  right.  There  was  nothing  she  could  do, — 
prayer  itself,  had  she  been  one  who  prayed,  would  not 
succor  that  lost  child.  Lisette  was  dead,  sucked  under, 
through  everybody  else's  sin.  ...  A  corpse,  white- 
bodied,  in  a  shell, — not  even  with  the  small  consolation 
of  Violet's  real  pearls, — little  Lisette  of  six  years  old, 
herself  a  pearl  of  beauty,  exquisite  and  unmatched.  .  .  . 

"  You're  nearly  asleep,  my  ducky,"  said  Charles'  voice, 
"  and  I  loathe  disturbing  you  again;  but  a  man  has  just 
brought  this." 

He  had  turned  up  the  light  that  he  had  snicked  out 
soundlessly  when  he  left  the  room  more  than  an  hour 
before.  In  the  interval  he  had  been  out,  seeking  news,  as 
he  had  promised.  But  he  had  discovered  nothing  to  do 
that  had  not  already  been  done  by  Lisette's  unknown 
providence,  a  person  whom  everyone  seemed  equally 
unable  to  describe.  Returning,  with  a  virtuous  sense  of 
duty  done,  to  Violet's  side,  he  found  her  just  as  he  had 
left  her  in  the  darkened  dining-room;  too  drowsy,  as  it 
seemed,  even  to  ask  for  news. 

She  traveled  back  to  her  senses  slowly,  and  roused  to 
the  facts  of  life  by  degrees.  The  first  fact,  as  usual  now- 
adays, was  Charles :  his  strong  arm  beneath  her,  and  his 
lips  against  her  hair.  Violet  had  been  in  the  hairdresser's 
hands  that  day,  and  had  quite  expected  him  to  remark  on 
the  way  one  lock  sat  down  on  her  head  owing  to  Charles' 


158  DUKE  JONES 

persistent  attentions.  But  being  polite  and  French,  he 
had  merely  observed  how  Madame's  hair  had  grown 
since  he  saw  her. 

Having  recalled  so  much  of  the  day's  bewildering  ex- 
periences, Violet  woke  a  little  more,  took  in  the  spoken 
words  whose  echo  reached  her,  and  realized,  as  her  eyes 
grew  used  to  the  flood  of  light,  that  Charles'  right  hand 
was  holding  something  in  front  of  them, — an  object  her 
eyes  knew  well, — had  known  for  years,  familiarly.  It 
was  of  leather,  dry-scented,  with  three  gold  letters  glint- 
ing under  the  light.  She  had  had  it  since  she  was  twelve, 
her  father  had  given  it  her  with  the  first  and  dearest  of 
his  three  little  jewels,  chosen  for  beauty,  not  swagger, 
that  she  had  lost. 

"  Lisette  ?  "  she  queried,  her  brow  wrinkling  faintly  as 
she  gazed.  For  a  wonderful  moment  she  thought  the 
nightmare  a  delusion,  and  Charles  had  found  Lisette. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "Shall  we  look  inside?" 
He  spoke  as  to  a  child,  and  pitifully.  Then  it  was  not  so. 
Violet  awoke. 

"  Not  like  that,"  she  said,  irritated  by  his  fumbling, 
laying  her  clever  hand  over  his.  "  I  will  see,  thank  you," 
she  added,  in  her  waking  tone,  steadily. 

Charles'  hand  dropped  at  the  hint.  Her  irritation  and 
vagueness  alike,  both  so  unusual,  brought  home  to  him 
her  real  suffering.  She  was  too  tired  even  to  act  for  his 
benefit  now, — exhausted.  Therewith  the  last  shreds  of 
his  resentment  vanished,  and  he  recollected  the  obliga- 
tions of  friendship,  which  the  more  selfish  passion  over- 
lays. After  a  second  of  watching  her,  he  left  her  alto- 
gether, rose,  and  went  to  the  hearth,  turning  his  shoulder 
to  give  her  the  more  privacy,  while  she  opened  what  was 
within. 

It  was  a  most  proper  little  note,  on  club  paper,  in  a 
white  envelope,  without  superscription  of  any  kind.  Vio- 
let unfolded  the  sheet  on  a  natural  assumption, — before 
she  found  the  message  was  addressed  to  Charles. 


THE  GODS  DISPOSE  159 

"  Dear  Shovell,"  it  began,  in  a  hand  with  a  certain 
commercial  neatness,  which  she  did  not  immediately 
recognize.  After  looking  at  Charles'  back  a  moment, 
Violet  read  on: 

"  I  found  this  thing  on  an  omnibus,  by  a  lucky  fluke.  I 
am  not  on  to  the  other  things  at  present,  and  the  brute 
has  dodged  the  police.  I  suppose  you  went  to  the  Lang- 
ham,  like  self,  too  late.  I  am  taking  the  car  over,  on  the 
chance.  I  will  let  you  know,  if  any  good,  from  the  other 
end,  or  before  that,  if  they  stop.  All  the  wires  are  pulled, 
anyhow,  and  he  can't  hide  her  easily.  That's  our  chance. 
It  is  pretty  bad,  on  the  face  of  it,  but  she  [erased]  Mrs. 
Shovell  need  not  quite  give  up.  I  will  do  what  I  can. 
"  Kindest  regards. 

"  Yours  very  sincerely, 
"  E.  M.  JONES." 

"  It's  the  missionary,  darling,"  said  Violet,  in  a  new 
tone. 

Charles,  turning  about,  found  her  hand  extending  his 
letter,  and  her  gray  eyes  upon  him,  full  of  tears,  but  with 
a  light  behind  that  was  not  the  light  of  amusement  only. 
It  was  so  deliciously  like  him,  the  E.  M.  Jones  of  their 
holiday  game,  to  send  a  note  to  Charles,  unaddressed,  in 
Violet's  property!  Such  business-like  decorum,  at  such 
a  juncture, — it  was  enough  to  make  her  laugh,  while  she 
cried  at  the  kindness. 

Real  kindness, — the  essential  oil, — invariably  made  the 
Ashwins  cry ;  but  Jones'  business  note  had  not  that  effect 
on  Charles.  Reaching  the  end  of  it,  he  laughed  shortly 
once,  and  stowed  the  letter  away.  The  laughter  surprised 
Violet  a  little,  though  by  that  time  most  of  her  thoughts 
were  aloof,  and  following  Marmaduke  Jones  to  France, 
so  she  did  not  challenge  it.  It  was  as  well,  perhaps,  she 
did  not :  for  it  was  at  the  "  she  "  erased  that  Charles  had 
laughed:  half  in  self-approval  to  find  his  private  theory 


160  DUKE  JONES 

supported  by  such  evidence,  half  in  amusement  at  the 
reflection  he  added  to  it, — that  the  little  fellow  must  have 
been  in  the  deuce  of  a  hurry  to  allow  that  erasure  to 
stand.  It  would  have  been  more  like  Jones, — Charles' 
idea  of  him, — having  made  a  slip  as  serious  as  that,  to 
have  written  out  the  whole  again. 


PART  II 


I 

THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE 


LISETTE'S  frantic,  furious  little  letter  to  her  sister,  sent 
from  beyond  the  water,  incompletely  stamped,  with 
neither  address  nor  signature,  and  constituting  in  itself, 
short  as  it  was,  not  the  least  ghastly  document  ever  penned 
in  the  annals  of  her  family,  though  there  had  been  many 
such, — first  paralyzed  the  little  home  at  Torquay,  and  then, 
quite  inevitably,  shot  round  the  Ingestre  outposts,  one  by 
one.  The  news  it  contained  went  round,  that  is, — the  note 
was  burnt. 

The  family  arose  in  their  force.  Even  to  keep  the  thing 
out  of  the  papers  effort  was  necessary,  and  there  were 
claims  far  more  serious  than  that.  The  Ingestres  stirred, 
one  might  say,  from  the  sleep  of  centuries,  swore  first, — 
naturally, — and  then  made  inquiries.  They  even  took 
steps.  Mr.  Ingestre  of  the  Hall,  a  really  tremendous  per- 
son, though  frail  in  appearance,  and  crippled  with  com- 
plicated gout,  sent,  in  almost  royal  fashion,  a  flash  of 
telegrams  in  all  directions,  and  then  came  to  London:  a 
place  which  all  his  life  had  never  seen  him  at  such  a  sea- 
son of  the  year  before. 

"If  we  had  known "  was  Claude  Ash  win's  simple 

response  to  all  John  Ingestre's  unrestrained  eloquence  on 
the  subject,  when  he  sat  in  judgment  in  his  cousin 
Eveleen's  private  room  in  Harley  Street ;  and  a  shrug  fin- 
ished which  conveyed  the  rest  unsaid. 

"  It's  the  most  sickening  luck,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre. 
"  Sickening." 

163 


164  DUKE  JONES 

He  glared  at  Claude.  He  did  not  really  blame  him, 
naturally,  since  Lisette's  flight  had  been  secret,  and  her 
plans  the  plans  of  another,  presumably, — that  unnamed 
demon  with  the  master  mind,  of  whom  all  were  thinking 
while  mention  was  made  of  "  the  girl "  alone, — it  was  only, 
as  frequently,  convenient  to  be  angry  with  Eveleen's  hus- 
band, since  wrath  was  wasted  upon  her. 

For  it  appeared  that  two  letters,  on  the  part  of  Eveleen, 
in  the  matter  of  Lisette,  were  not  regarded  by  her  cousin, 
and  the  family  view  he  represented,  as  sufficient  inter- 
ference, in  the  earlier  stage  where  influence  might  have 
served.  Eveleen  had  been  slack,  her  cousin  John  feared, 
in  this  matter.  (He  had  noticed  slackness  in  Eveleen, 
once  or  twice  in  her  existence  previously,  but  since  she 
was  a  very  lovely  woman,  he  had  usually  laughed  and  let 
it  pass.)  She  had  been  even  culpably  slack,  since  she  was 
the  person  named  in  poor  Addenbroke's  will :  though  no 
talking  on  John's  part  seemed  to  make  her  see  it.  Her 
husband,  of  course,  had  the  sense  to  be  silent,  though  he 
listened  to  John's  moral  efforts  in  that  quarter  with  a 
certain  interest.  John  had  known  her  all  her  life. 

"You  have  got  a  motor,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre,  looking 
beyond  Claude  to  his  cousin,  who  was  pouting  slightly, 
her  head  on  a  cushion,  in  a  very  comfortable  chair. 
"  Couldn't  you  at  least  have  gone  down  to  take  stock  of 
the  situation,  when  you  first  heard, — heard  the  girl  was 
bucking  dangerously  like  that,  I  mean?  You  must  have 
known  Agnes — qua  Agnes — would  mucker  it.  She  always 
does." 

"  It's  such  a  way,"  murmured  Eveleen,  her  eyes  on  John 
Ingestre's  tie.  "  Of  course  I  knew  Agnes  would,"  she  pro- 
ceeded, "  if  there  was  a  chance.  But  I'd  an  idea  Honoria 
had  sense :  I  am  sure  they  always  told  me  so.  They  bored 
me  to  death  about  Honoria's  brains,  when  I  first  went 
down  there,  before  she  went  to  college.  What's  the  good 
of  brains  if  you  can't  use  them?  " 

"  I'm  not  saying  anything   for  Honoria,"   said  her 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  165 

cousin  John,  "  Lord  knows.  It's  a  lasting  moral  against 
this  training  of  women's  brains  at  the  expense  of  their 
common  sense  and  natural  feeling.  Lord  only  knows,  I 
don't  defend  Honoria.  But  she's  the  worst  sufferer,  after 
all.  We  ought  to " 

"  The  worst  ?  "  said  Claude,  snapping  his  fingers  once 
upon  the  table. 

Mr.  Ingestre,  thus  gracelessly  interrupted,  glanced  at 
him  and  left  a  pause :  perhaps  ashamed  a  trifle.  Eveleen 
glanced  too  at  her  husband's  face,  and  saw  his  impotent 
fury, — not,  she  was  happy  to  observe,  with  her.  He  was 
furious,  as  always,  at  knowing  of  a  thing  too  late  that  he 
could  conceivably  have  remedied.  Of  course,  now,  it  was 
far  too  late,  at  this  point  when  the  hateful  outrage  reached 
his  ears.  Claude  looked  extremely,  exaggeratedly,  un- 
happy and  ashamed,  as  he  sat  in  his  wife's  beautiful  sit- 
ting-room, at  her  unique  Sheraton  table,  hearing  of  it.  He 
might,  judging  by  his  looks  alone,  have  been  solely  re- 
sponsible for  the  tragedy, — if  John  had  not  known  he  had 
been  enlightened,  for  the  first  time,  during  the  last  few 
hours. 

"  I  told  Violet "  began  Eveleen. 

"  What  ?  "  said  her  husband  sharply. 

"  Well,  she  was  down  there,  just  before  it  all  happened, 
close  to  them.  At  least,  not  so  far  away.  I  never  re- 
member exactly  if  Torquay  is  in  Devonshire  or  Cornwall, 
but  it's  much  the  same.  I  said  Agnes  was  in  a  way,  and 
Violet  might  as  well  go  over,  if  she  had  a  chance,  and  see. 
Not  that  she  would  have  been  any  good,"  added  Eveleen. 
"  But  she  didn't." 

Both  men  looked  at  her,  endeavoring  to  get  to  the  bot- 
tom of  this  lucid  statement. 

"  Poor  little  Violet, — on  her  wedding-journey !  I'm 
glad  she  did  not,"  said  John.  "  You  would  hardly  have 
countenanced  that,  Claude,  would  you  ?  I  know  these  up- 
to-date  girls,— but  still !  " 

"  Well,  Agnes  seemed  to  think  her  better  than  nothing," 


166  DUKE  JONES 

said  Eveleen  impartially.  "  With  Honoria,  of  course,  I 
mean.  I  don't  suppose  she  could  have  dodged  Lisette. 
Nobody,  anyhow,  could  have  dodged  Lisette,  if  she  was 
set  on  her  own  way.  We  had  her  here  once, — they  came 
together  for  the  Welbys'  dance.  She  was  sixteen, — I  no- 
ticed then.  Don't  you  remember,  Claude  ?  " 

"  I  remember  very  well,"  he  said,  looking  down.  Was 
it  likely  any  man  with  his  senses  awake  would  forget 
beauty  like  that  ?  Only  the  young  Eveleen  Ingestre,  to  his 
mind,  had  ever  equaled  it, — he  had  compared  the  two  at 
leisure,  then. 

Claude  was  trying  hard  to  think,  always  a  difficult 
business  in  mixed  Ingestre  society.  John  was  well-mean- 
ing, but  he  had,  so  to  speak,  only  one  plane  of  thought. 
One  had  to  remain  on  that  level  steadily,  or  one  might  mis- 
understand him,  and  lose  one's  temper  unaware.  It  was 
the  scandal  that  mattered  really  to  John,  the  degrading 
scandal, — not  the  girl.  As  for  Claude's  wife,  she  laid,  or 
appeared  to  lay,  her  impressions  before  the  company 
freely,  and  looked  sublime  in  the  intervals.  That  was  as 
far  as  Eveleen  ever  went,  in  strictly  male  surroundings, 
so  he  expected  nothing  more  useful.  Her  secretiveness 
about  the  origins  of  the  thing,— the  point  where  work  and 
intervention  might  have  served, — was  characteristic  too. 
Yet  perhaps  if  he  had  not  let  her  drift  so  far  apart  from 
him  she  might  have  mentioned  something, — hinted  at 
least,  so  that  he  could  have  evolved  the  rest. 

"  I  expect  Charles  prevented  Violet,"  he  said,  after  the 
pause, — the  kind  of  conversation,  being  so  fruitless,  is 
largely  pauses, — "  quite  right.  She  would  have  only  run 
her  head  against  the  wall,  that  is  if  I  remember  the  girls 
at  all  correctly.  The  elder  would  need — er — something 
more  strenuous  than  soothing." 

Eveleen  laughed :  and  John  said, — "  Meaning,  a  man  ?  " 

"  A  man,  of  sorts,"  said  the  doctor  cautiously.  "  Qual- 
ities of  temper  are  needed."  He  paused,  and  added, — 
"  Charles  himself  might  have  done  something,  if  properly 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  167 

posted.  You  have  not  met  Charles,  John.  He's  the  right 
type  for  it,  equable, — and  above  all,  healthy.  The  crisis 
was  unhealthy  essentially," — the  medical  disgust  came 
through.  "  Shovell  might  have  lightened  the  atmosphere 
a  bit,"  he  finished,  "  and  he'd  have  kept  his  head." 

"  All  you  know,"  said  Eveleen.  "  And  it  wasn't  Charles' 
business,  anyhow." 

John,  by  his  short  grunt,  seemed  to  agree.  They  were 
equally  inclined  to  keep  the  scandal  within  the  family  ring, 
and  seek  an  offender  there.  That,  Claude  supposed,  was 
why  they  had  all  settled  on  Honoria.  His  wife,  he  noticed, 
was  particularly  vicious  on  the  subject  of  the  elder  girl. 
Honoria  made  the  mistake,  of  course,  of  being  in  the 
family,  but  not  of  it, — a  white  blackbird  in  the  brood. 
Being  now  shamed  by  her  sister's  conduct,  with  her  newly- 
attached  lover  backing  away  from  her,  in  equal  suspicion 
and  alarm, — Honoria  had,  they  could  not  avoid  thinking, 
her  deserts.  She  had  no  right  to  marry,  so  to  speak,  at 
poor  foolish  little  Felicia's  expense.  A  girl  of  sense,  with 
the  proper  instincts,  ought  to  have  seen  to  it  that  Lisette 
married  decently  first, — it  was  not  as  though  there  could 
have  been  any  lack  of  chances.  Honoria  could  easily  have 
picked  up  a  husband  herself  later, — Ingestres  almost  in- 
variably did.  That  was  John's  view :  and  Eveleen  would 
doubtless  have  shared  it,  if  she  had  had  it  stated  slowly, 
and  been  given  time  to  take  it  in. 

"  Why  on  earth  didn't  the  poor  little  creature  come  to 
us  ?  "  said  Claude,  his  head  in  his  hands.  "  That's  what 
I  cannot  see.  Come,  or  send  at  least,  if  she  found  herself 
in  straits.  She  has  been  here,  she  couldn't  have  forgotten 
the  address :  we  did  our  best  for  her  on  that  occasion.  And 
she  must  have  passed  through  town, — unless  they  crossed 
from  Southampton?  To  be  sure,  the  school  was  there. 
Has  anybody  aired  that  theory,  John  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre.  "  She  undoubtedly  came 
through  town,  and  stayed  at  the  Langham, — her  name  is 
on  their  books.  She  may  have  assumed  you  were  out  of 


168  DUKE  JONES 

town, — your  habits  are  your  own,  Claude,  I  may  men- 
tion :  but  it's  likely  the  other  was  with  her,  and  stopped  it. 
Lord  knows.  I  shall  go  to  the  Langham  this  afternoon  to 
get  what  I  can,  but  I  fear  it's  little  good.  All  the  scents 
are  stale,  and  the  police  at  fault :  though  I  hear  some  pri- 
vate workers  are  worrying  at  it."  After  another  of  the 
hopeless  pauses,  he  pursued, — "  She  wasn't  in  straits  at 
that  point,  at  least :  it's  an  excellent  hotel.  He  was  prob- 
ably playing  her,  and  treating  her  about.  She  can  have 
had  no  suspicions.  Why,  she  could  have  telephoned  to  you 
from  there,  if  she  had  really " 

"  Just  so,"  said  Claude,  catching  him  up,  "  or  to  Violet. 
Violet  must  have  been  home  by  then.  What  was  the 
date  you  said,  John  ?  Let  me  see." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  Eveleen  observed  to  him,  low  and 
sharply,  'as  the  secretary  Ford  came  in.  Claude,  whose 
head  was  still  in  his  hands,  looked  up  surprised,  and  Mr. 
Ingestre's  eyebrows  lifted  slightly.  But  no  one  spoke 
for  a  minute,  as  was  natural. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  young  Ford  to  his  chief, 
blushing  and  rather  astounded  at  the  crushing  silence 
which  greeted  him.  Even  in  a  domestic  conclave,  he 
thought,  one  does  not  need  to  shear  it  off  so  completely  as 
this.  And  Ford  had  attended  many  conclaves,  some  of 
quite  a  peculiar  nature,  in  this  house. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  said  Eveleen,  just  as  though  he 
had  been  a  servant,  thought  John. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Sir  Claude,  beyond  her,  quietly.  "  We 
are  only  ash-picking  over  this  wretched  affair.  I  forget 
if  you  know  Ford,  Ingestre.  I  think  you  must  have  met." 

That  was  more  like  it,  thought  Mr.  Ingestre,  as  he  shook 
the  youth  by  the  hand.  John  liked  to  have  things  decent, 
at  least  outwardly.  Really,  even  in  the  presence  of  per- 
sons who  knew  the  domestic  situation,  Eveleen's  snub  to 
her  husband  had  been  so  vicious  as  to  be  barely  in  good 
taste ;  not  less  her  remark  to  the  secretary,  patently  a  good 
fellow,  and  a  University  man.  Her  sharpness  suggested, 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  169 

in  John's  view,  some  nervous  strain  on  Eveleen's  part: 
and  John  was  perfectly  right.  The  dialogue  had  sailed 
much  nearer  to  the  wind,  in  the  last  two  speeches  at  least, 
than  Eveleen  liked.  She  had  no  wish  at  all  for  Claude  to 
think  out  dates,  a  thing  for  which  he  had  a  positive  genius : 
or  to  consider  too  keenly  how  far  his  daughter  might 
have  been  involved  in  Lisette's  tiresome  affair;  nor,  above 
all,  did  she  want  John  to  maunder  of  telephone  messages, 
in  the  unwelcome  presence  of  Mr.  Ford.  These  contin- 
gencies must  be  avoided,  by  rudeness  if  necessary.  So 
Lady  Ashwin  was  rude — sublimely. 

It  was  noticeable  that,  after  the  first  shock,  nobody 
thought  much  of  it. 

"  I'll  come  at  two  if  I  must,"  said  Sir  Claude,  in  the 
most  unprofessional  manner,  to  his  secretary's  correct  and 
low-toned  information.  "  But  it's  not  necessary,  and  I 
don't  want  to.  'Phone  that  to  Lady  Gertrude,  in  your 
best  style.  And  I  know  I  am  later  than  I  said,  but  Mrs. 
Shovell  must  wait.  Keep  her  going  for  ten  minutes, 
Ford,  would  you  mind,  down  there.  You  can  talk  about 
musical  glasses,  or  something  of  that  description,  can't 
you?  We  don't  want  her  bothering  here,  as  it  happens." 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  remarked  Mr.  Ingestre,  turning.    "  I  do." 

"  Better  wait,"  said  Claude,  with  a  glance  at  him. 
"  She's  dining  to-night,  isn't  she,  Evie  ?  Or  merely  hired 
to  do  the  flowers  and  the  fruit?  " 

"  Don't  be  absurd,"  said  Eveleen.  "  If  she  wants  to, 
I'm  sure  I  don't  see  why  she  shouldn't.  I  told  her  she 
might  just  as  well  do  the  food  as  well,  while  she  was 
about  it, — since  John  is  here,  and  she  remembers  what 
people  eat.  Or  rather  don't.  I  never  do." 

John's  satiric  mouth  twisted,  for,  like  most  men  who 
have  been  in  their  time  good  livers,  he  objected  to  having 
the  exigencies  of  a  diet  made  public  property.  But,  as 
it  was  merely  Eveleen,  he  said  nothing  violent;  he  only 
grimaced  passingly,  and  took  stock  of  the  new-comer 
while  he  waited  among  them,  easily,  for  orders. 


170  DUKE  JONES 

"  I  suppose,"  Eveleen  pursued,  addressing  Claude  ap- 
parently, though  she  did  not  look  at  him,  "  if  Violet  wants 
you  to  walk,  she's  finished.  Has  she  ?  "  Her  fine  eyes 
fixed  the  secretary,  who  was  perfectly  used  to  the  most 
anomalous  duties  in  her  establishment. 

"  I  gathered,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  very  modestly,  "  Mrs. 
Shovell  had  been  promised  some  information  as  to  some- 
thing— shades,  I  think, — which  is  not  forthcoming,  and  is 
stuck  for  want  of  it." 

"  Let  her  stick,"  Sir  Claude  intervened  in  a  flash  before 
his  wife  could  speak.  "  She's  my  guest  to-night,  and  I 
won't  have  it.  Tell  her  that.  Send  the  shades  to  the 
underworld,  where  they  probably  belong.  Stick  her  on 
the  study  table,  and  divert  her  mind.  Tie  her  hands  if 
necessary,  Ford.  I  have  to  depend  on  you." 

The  secretary,  keeping  his  face  admirably,  though  his 
color  was  a  little  high,  retired  and  shut  the  door. 

"  Nice  young  fellow,"  commented  John  Ingestre. 
"  Good  choice  you  London  fellows  get, — mine's  a  beast. 
.  .  .  I  oughtn't  really  to  keep  you,  Claude.  I  sup- 
pose you  have  all  the  world  to  do.  The  only  thing  left 
is — I  wanted  to  pick  your  brains  a  bit  about  the  missions, 
societies  and  so  forth,  that  deal  with  these  things, — but 
that'll  bore  Eveleen,  won't  it?  We  had  better  put  it  off." 

They  both  looked  at  Eveleen,  hoping  she  might  see  she 
had  to  go.  She  did  not,  only  settling  more  comfortably 
under  their  eyes.  It  was,  she  would  have  argued,  her  own 
room,  though  it  also  happened  to  be  the  most  private  spot 
in  a  very  busy  house.  So  John  proceeded,  hoping  to 
weary  her. 

"  I'd  no  idea  those  people  ran  their  noses  into  messes 
like  this  so  promptly.  On  my  word,  it's  rather  smart, 
according  to  what  the  inspector  told  me  yesterday.  One 
of  them  was  across  almost  as  soon  as  she  was, — must 
have  been,  I  mean.  And  he's  still  hanging  about,  over 
there,  watching  the  tracks." 

"  Happen  to  know  the  society  ?  "  asked  Claude. 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  171 

Oh  dear  no, — Mr.  Ingestre  never  remembered  such 
things.  The  inspector  had  used  a  string  of  letters,  of 
course.  "  I  no  more  remember  'em,"  he  said  pleasantly, 
"  than  I  remember  the  dozen  or  so  you  carry  after  your 
name.  And  I  doubt  whether  Eveleen  there  could  repeat 
those,  if  she  was  put  to  it." 

"  Good  gracious  no,"  said  Eveleen,  full  length  in  her 
chair.  "  The  only  result  of  that  sort  of  thing  is,  he's  out 
nearly  every  night." 

"  I  can't  see  how  that  follows,"  said  John,  after  conning 
it.  "  Can  you,  Claude  ?  Societies,  does  she  mean  ?  Meet- 
ings? Eveleen,  what  do  you  mean? — do  tell  us.  Some- 
times, we  really  want  to  know." 

But  Eveleen  was  vexed, — one  might  have  said  agitated, 
if  such  a  thing  were  possible.  She  had  not  yet  got  over 
the  jar  of  Ford's  untimely  entrance, — she  did  not  reckon 
in  life  for  such  outrageous  and  unjust  coincidences.  It 
ruffled  her  so  that  she  could  not  even  flirt  lazily  with 
John,  who  from  the  age  of  seventeen  or  thereabouts  had 
always  been  ready  for  the  exercise.  So  having  revenged 
herself  by  teasing  and  interrupting  the  busy  pair  for  a 
period,  she  left  them  to  their  private  conversation,  much 
to  its  advantage,  and  theirs. 

Claude,  when  he  finally  reached  the  study,  found  his 
daughter  and  Mr.  Ford  sitting  upon  the  table,  as  directed, 
side  by  side,  with  their  hands  clasped  about  their  knees, 
and  their  heads  rather  near  together,  talking  with  energy 
low-toned.  They  were  old  comrades,  and  good  friends, — 
and  Mr.  Ford  was  resigned.  That  is  all  that  need  be 
mentioned  about  their  situation.  It  is  not  exclusive  of 
agreeable  intercourse,  on  the  subject  of  musical  glasses, 
or  any  other  artistic  topic  that  happens  to  crop  up  in  Lon- 
don in  September.  Their  present  attitude  on  the  table 
witnessed  to  this  consolatory  fact  in  life. 

As  father  and  chief  made  his  appearance,  they  simul- 
taneously leapt  off  the  table,  and  tried  to  look  relieved. 


i;2  DUKE  JONES 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Sir  Claude,  glancing  at  his  secre- 
tary's face.  "  I  trust  she  has  proved  tractable." 

"  Very  fairly,"  said  Mr.  Ford  demurely.  "  Only  looked 
five  times  at  her  watch." 

"  I  did  not,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell,  coloring.  "  I  was  look- 
ing down  at  my  hands,  and  happened  to  see  it,  that's  all. 
Only  really,"  she  added,  turning  breezily  about,  "  I  have 
a  little  wasted  my  morning  with  all  of  you!  You  ought 
to  have  a  waiting-room  here  for  daughters,  Father, — or 
at  least  a  wooden  chair  in  the  hall.  I  have  not  touched 
the  piano, — I  was  growling  to  Mr.  Ford.  He  will  have  to 
do  the  whole  of  the  concert  this  evening,  every  bit.  As 
for  Mother,  I  simply  give  her  up.  Mason  was  nearly  cry- 
ing, and  all  the  others  were  cross.  I  tried  to  console 
them,  but  I  have  done  nothing  in  two  hours,  really, — nor 
have  they.  And  it's  not  as  if  I  hadn't  things  at  home." 

"  I  am  sorry,  darling,"  said  her  father,  with  genuine 
remorse.  "  I  suppose  Ingestre's  sudden  descent  has  up- 
set your  mother,  rather.  I  am  really  vexed  about  it, — I 
think  I  conveyed  as  much.  She  has  no  right  to  ask  you, 
and  Charles  has  every  reason  for  complaint.  In  future, 
Pussy,  I  shall  see  to  the  shades  myself, — granted  Ford 
will  discover  for  me  what  they  are." 

Mrs.  Shovell  laughed, — at  herself,  as  was  evident ;  and 
after  an  instant,  approached  and  took  his  arm.  She  had 
lost  her  temper  frankly,  and  as  frankly  recovered  it.  The 
Ashwins  had  tempers,  though  they  held  them  in  control ; 
they  could  not  have  owned  such  a  store  of  hot  feeling 
otherwise.  To-day  Violet's  tiresome  nerves  were  teasing 
her  a  little,  on  more  counts  than  one ;  for  her  cousin  John 
was  particular  both  as  to  his  meats  and  his  music;  her 
mother's  household,  which  she  had  been  calmly  requested 
to  manage  on  short  notice,  was  thoroughly  out  of  gear; — 
and  she  knew  she  would  be  asked  to  play.  Mr.  Ford, 
alone  in  a  hard  world,  had  been  sorry  for  her, — because 
musical  people  know.  She  had  asked  at  some  length  on 
the  table,  and  briefly  received,  his  sympathy.  Having  that 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  173 

and  her  father's  apology,  she  felt  somewhat  armed  against 
fate  and  the  future.  Now  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  beg  everybody's  pardon,"  she  observed,  "  for  letting 
fly.  I  expect  I  have  been  detestable,  but  I  will  go  home 
and  reform  before  the  evening.  I  will  brush  up  my  man- 
ners with  my  best  shoes.  I  must  have  interrupted  you 
most  horribly,"  she  added,  with  evidently  false  compunc- 
tion and  a  charming  smile. 

"  Most  completely,"  said  Ford,  looking  back  with  equal 
meaning.  "  Really,  I  forget  what  I  was  doing  when  you 
came  in." 

"  Oh,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Violet  kindly.  "  You  were 
standing  at  the  window,  looking  out.  Dog  fight,  I  think, 
by  the  sounds.  And  the  telephone-bell  was  ringing,  per- 
sistently, in  the  background." 

"  Did  he  attend  to  the  telephone,"  asked  her  father ; 
"  after  you  came  in,  I  mean?  " 

"  Yes,  Father, — instantly.  I  seemed  to  remind  him  of 
his  duties.  I  am  rather  like  you,  they  say.  Personally,  I 
could  have  settled  Lady  Gertrude  in  half  the  time.  They 
had  a  long,  interesting,  intimate  conversation.  I  heard  her 
quacking  voice.  I  think,"  she  added  dreamily,  "  a  tele- 
phone to  all  the  nice  houses  in  London  is  a  great  embellish- 
ment to  a  room.  It  certainly  lends  variety  to  the  cloistral 
life." 

"  A  comfort  to  hear  her  words  again,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Sir 
Claude  to  the  third  party,  with  a  smile.  "  We  miss  things 
like  *  cloistral '  nowadays.  They  hardly  ever  crop  up,  in 
our  common  speech, — especially  like  this,  in  working 
hours." 

"  We  miss  more  than  that,"  murmured  young  Ford ;  and 
being  capable  of  taking  a  hint,  he  sat  down,  with  an  air  of 
purpose,  to  the  table. 

"  Ford  is  a  great  consolation  to  me,"  remarked  Sir 
Claude,  just  not  outside  the  door,  as  he  passed  through. 
"  His  sympathy  is  so  unforced."  When  he  was  quite  out- 
side, dropping  all  raillery,  he  added, — "  Puss,  can  you  pos- 


174  DUKE  JONES 

sibly  do  without  my  young  man  this  evening?  Your 
mother  seems  curiously  set  against  it.  I  cannot  make  it 
out,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  him,  really.  I  know,"  he 
added  in  the  fatherly  tone,  "  that  it  will  break  his  heart." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  a  minute.  "  Has  Mother  taken 
against  him  ? "  she  said.  "  Why  ?  He  has  never  been 
anything  but  kind  and  attentive  to  her." 

"  I  know ;  but  it  is  the  fact.  Useless,  probably,  to  go 
into  it.  Could  you  not  play  alone  ?  Ingestre  so  loves  your 
playing, — so  do  I." 

"  Father  darling, — it  isn't  that,"  she  said  after  a  minute, 
with  an  effort.  "  I  feel  Mother  should  not  be  humored  in 
these  things.  It  is  not  even  good  for  her, — it  is  unnatural. 
Someone  must  make  a  stand  about  it,  really.  Must  I  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  said  unhappily.  "  Because  that  will  mean 
teasing  for  you,  won't  it  ?  In  the  case,  unpleasant  teasing, 
I  imagine."  Violet  was  silent.  "  We  must  think  of  some 
other  way." 

"You  mean  something  insincere?  A  piece  of  unex- 
pected business  cropping  up  at  seven  o'clock,  and  so  on, — 
I  won't  bear  it,  Father.  Hubert  Ford  is  a  friend.  He  has 
never  been  anything  but  sincere  to  me.  He  is  incapable  of 
concealing — anything.  I  cannot  bear  that  sort  of  thing, 
you  know;  it  is  injustice,  unkindness  too.  I  shall  tell 
Mother  what  I  think." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Claude  thoughtfully,  after  another  silent 
space  of  walking,  side  by  side,  "  you  had  not  always  to  be 
sacrificed.  It  seems  quite  unfair." 

Indeed,  such  little  deceptions  as  he  had  proposed  were 
one  of  the  many  miseries  of  the  domestic  situation,  over 
the  constant  problems  of  which  they  now  talked  almost 
freely.  One  would  have  thought  often,  overhearing  their 
cautious  talk  upon  the  subject,  that  the  wife  and  mother 
who  was  the  center  of  all  problems  was  diseased,  or  chron- 
ically infirm.  So  she  was,  to  the  delicate,  fastidious  Ash- 
win  standards ;  but  the  condition  led  frequently  to  shame 
and  discomfort  for  them.  Violet  had  always,  where  pos- 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  175 

sible,  spared  him  such  small  humiliations,  and  he  was 
driven,  more  as  time  went  on,  to  let  her  suffer  them  in  his 
stead.  On  the  present  occasion,  he  felt  incapable  really, 
on  thinking  it  over,  of  going  to  "  his  young  man,"  who  had 
nearly  broken  an  excellent  heart  for  Violet,  and  telling 
him,  even  in  the  most  adroit  manner  his  own  ingenuity 
could  suggest,  that  he  was  not  to  see  her  at  dinner  that 
night.  It  seemed  too  hard, — unjust,  as  Violet  said.  So 
he  left  it  to  his  daughter's  wits,  as  usual. 

ii 

"  Hullo !  "  remarked  Mr.  Ingestre.    "  We're  the  first." 

Violet,  who  had  not  noticed  him  in  his  chair,  for  the 
drawing-room  lights  were  low,  started. 

"  We  are  simply  a  family  party,  Cousin  John,"  she  ex- 
plained in  the  distance,  rather  shyly. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Cousin  John. 

Mrs.  Shovell  had  slipped  into  her  mother's  drawing- 
room,  just  to  see  that  all  was  well  in  that  department, 
having  reviewed  exhaustively  all  the  others.  She  had 
come  early  for  the  purpose,  on  her  own  account,  and  no- 
body else  was  dressed.  She  had  supposed  not,  that  is ;  she 
was  not  prepared  to  see  the  head  of  the  Ingestres,  the  cen- 
ter, so  to  speak,  of  all  her  cares,  sitting  ready  and  lonely 
in  his  chair.  Having  stopped  short  at  the  sight  of  him, 
secretly  vexed,  she  came  on  with  decision,  stripping  off 
the  pinafore  she  wore  to  protect  her  dress,  and  adding  to 
her  whole  demeanor  as  she  advanced  the  stateliness  of  the 
married  woman.  She  had  been  in  her  old  incarnation, 
child  and  fag  of  the  household,  only  the  instant  before, 
and  her  cousin  John's  amused  eyes  witnessed  the  change. 
He  had  only  seen  her  once  in  youth,  and  a  passing  glimpse 
of  her  at  the  wedding,  but  he  liked  her,  as  he  liked  Claude. 
He  held  out  a  hand  invitingly. 

"  Come  and  kiss  me,  little  girl,"  he  remarked. 

"  That's  not  the  way  to  address  me,  Cousin  John," 
observed  Violet,  folding  up  the  pinafore.  "  Just  because 


176  DUKE  JONES 

you  dress  too  early,  and  happen  to  catch  people  in  mufti, 
you  oughtn't  to  take  liberties.  I  have  all  my  war-paint 
underneath.  Besides,  I  am  not  on  the  premises  at  pres- 
ent :  I  arrive  with  my  husband,  later."  As  she  threw  aside 
the  pinafore  with  easy  grace,  she  added, — "  I  had  to  do 
the  flowers  at  the  last  moment,  because  Mother  would 
not  settle  the  shades  finally  before.  I  have  been  at  her 
all  day  on  the  subject,  fruitlessly.  Mother  has  a  per- 
fectly noble  way  of  putting  off." 

Mr.  Ingestre  laughed  for  all  answer  at  this  tirade,  and 
drew  her  to  him. 

"  My,  what  pearls !  "  he  said,  when  he  had  been  kissed. 
"  Here,  kneel  down ;  let  me  see." 

The  elders  of  that  house  had  a  fine,  rather  historic, 
manner  of  treating  the  younger  women  like  chattels: 
things  to  their  pleasure  and  at  their  command.  They 
combined  it  with  the  most  elegant  civility  on  state  occa- 
sions, and  the  younger  women  got  used  to  it.  Violet 
laughed  and  knelt  down,  while  her  mother's  cousin  fin- 
gered the  pearls  in  turn,  examining.  He  had  fine  pointed 
fingers,  and  he  was  extremely  careful,  as  he  did  so,  not 
to  touch  her  neck.  He  looked  in  her  eyes,  though, — not 
Ingestre  eyes,  but  very  pretty  ones. 

"  What  have  you  been  crying  about  ?  "  he  said  simply, 
holding  her  by  a  pearl. 

"  Nothing."      A    pause.      "  Mother    made    me    cry." 

John  Ingestre  showed  no  surprise.  "  Did  she  box  your 
ears,  or  what  ?  "  he  inquired,  resuming  his  investigations. 

"  Cousin  John !  " 

"  Well,  she  did  mine  once.  I'm  sure  I'm  glad  to  hear 
it,"  he  added  courteously.  "  I  shouldn't  like  them  to  be 
boxed." 

"  She  has  never  beaten  me — yet,"  said  Violet,  her  tone 
unsteady.  "  This  evening  something  has  gone  wrong. 
That's  all.  I  dare  say  it  will  be  better  after  dinner.  Will 
you  let  me  go,  Cousin  John  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  said,  half  to  himself.    "  This  is  a  chance  of 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  177 

chances,  really.  Violet, — did  she  see  Felicia  when  she 
passed  through  town  ?  " 

The  blushes  surged  up,  as  he  saw  by  the  dim  light :  the 
girl  was  gasping,  as  he  felt.  "  No,"  she  said. 

"  That's  a  lie,"  said  John  pensively.  "  Did  you  see  her 
yourself  ? — Don't  be  nervous,  my  dear.  I'll  not  hurt  you 
or  her.  Eveleen's  a  woman  in  a  thousand — immune.  You 
must  know  that." 

"  I  know  it :  I  only — had  not  expected  this.  Won't  you 
allow  me — time  to  think  ?  " 

"  I'm  frightening  you,"  he  said,  still  pensively.  "  It's 
a  horrid  business,  certainly.  Did  she  drag  you  in  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Violet.  There  was  really  nothing  for  it ; 
and  easy  almost  to  familiarity  as  his  treatment  was  of  her, 
on  the  broad  lines  Cousin  John  Ingestre  was  all  right.  He 
was  a  perfectly  courteous  gentleman,  with  the  conviction 
in  him,  ages  old,  that  women,  if  sufficiently  beautiful,  may 
be  as  heartless  and  as  mischievous  as  they  please.  Eve- 
leen,  as  he  said,  was  immune.  She  had  knocked  even  the 
Ingestre  standard  down  in  looks,  and,  in  her  marriage, 
had  broken  new  but  excellent  ground,  with  a  courage  all 
her  relations  of  sense  now  openly  admired, — though  they 
had  been  intensely  disagreeable  at  the  time. 

"  How  did  you  find  out?  "  said  the  girl  after  a  minute. 

"  By  a  chance.  I  happened  to  go  to  the  hotel.  The 
people  there  recognized  your  mother.  She  didn't  give  her 
name,  but  she  was  recognized,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre,  as 
though  the  fact  pleased  him.  "  She  couldn't  disguise  her- 
self, Eveleen,  if  she  wanted  to, — and  she  doesn't." 

"  No,"  Violet  agreed.  She  told  him,  simply  and  short- 
ly, what  she  knew.  It  was  a  relief  to  tell  anyhow,  and 
to  a  person  who  was  safe. 

"  It's— Father,"  she  added. 

"  Yes,  just  so.  Father  shan't  know.  Shouldn't  won- 
der," said  John  thoughtfully,  "  if  he'd  turn  her  out  if  he 
did.  He's  been  pretty  near  it  before  now.  What  do  you 
say,  Mrs.  Shovell?" 


i;8  DUKE  JONES 

"  I  had  thought  of  it,"  she  said,  looking  him  in  the 
face  composedly.  "  It's  a  thing  Father  minds  so  much, — 
so  terribly,  Cousin  John." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  that.  Don't  wonder,  I'm  sure,  with  such  a 
nice  little  girl  of  his  own." 

This  civility  on  Mr.  Ingestre's  part  was  absent,  for  he 
was  thinking.  "  I'll  make  no  mischief  between  'em,"  he 
said  finally.  "  But  you  ought  never  to  have  been  let  in. 
That's  shocking,  really.  I  don't  like  that.  Does  your  hus- 
band know  ?  "  The  girl  nodded,  silently. 

"  Tell  him — that's  right,"  said  Cousin  John,  looking  at 
her  eyes  again.  "  Don't  cry,"  he  said.  "  Shovell's  a  good 
name.  Sounds  all  right,  anyhow." 

"  It  looks  all  right,"  said  Violet,  laughing  through  her 
tears.  "  It  appears  very  nice  indeed.  I  assure  you  it 
goes  further  than  sounding." 

"  And  feels  all  right,  eh  ? "  He  touched  her  chin. 
"Looks  after  you?  That's  well." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Violet  presently,  still  kneeling  by 
him,  "you  always  make  me  feel  mediaeval.  Fair  Ellen 
or  somebody,  in  Scott.  I  noticed  that  feeling  too  about 
the  Hall.  I  don't  wonder  the  mere  look  of  your  house 
inspired  us  to  run  away  from  it  romantically." 

"  I  hope  you'll  run  away  to  it,  and  soon,"  said  Mr.  In- 
gestre,  very  calm.  "  Christmas  is  a  good  time, — things 
pretty  lively."  He  did  not,  however,  accept  the  change 
of  subject.  "  Now  let's  see,"  he  pursued,  "  how  much 
has  your  father  really  reached  of  this  hateful  business. 
Anything  ?  " 

"  Nothing  to  speak  of :  he  has  hardly  turned  his  mind 
that  way.  He  is  so  frightfully  busy,  you  know.  I  think," 
said  Violet,  frowning,  "  that  I  can  manage  that  he  doesn't, 
anyhow, — though  it  is  harder,  not  being  in  the  house.  He 
is  so  quick,  you  know,  at  a  hint.  Still,  I  think  in  this 
case,  Mother  will  be  careful." 

"  Who's  to  have  Honoria,  when  she  comes  ? "  said 
John,  after  fresh  reflection.  "  That's  danger,  of  a  sort." 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  179 

"  I  had  thought  of  that.  I  will  have  Honoria, — it  won't 
be  just  at  present,  anyhow.  She  is  ill  with  the  horror 
and  disappointment,  poor  dear  thing.  ...  I  wanted 
to  ask  you,  Cousin  John.  You  will  not  worry  them  about 
it  yet?  You  will  let  them  have  a  mourning-time?  You 
know  it  is  far,  far  worse  than  death, — to  us."  She  bit 
her  lip. 

"  Yes :  that's  true."  John  was  silent.  He  had  meant  to 
be  "  at "  Honoria ;  he  had  even  written  a  letter ;  but  the 
girl  was  right.  The  letter  should  not,  at  least  at  present, 
be  sent.  He  came  back  to  Eveleen's  case,  after  a  minute. 
"  Anyhow,  when  she  comes,"  he  said,  "  she  must  be  kept 
off  your  mother.  Honoria  has  lost  her  man, — she'll  be 
frantic.  If  anything  got  out,  you  know, — there  would 
be  Hell's  own  row."  He  paused  and  added  gravely,  "  I 
beg  your  pardon;  Violet." 

"  I  know  what*  you  mean,"  she  said. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  do,"  said  John.  "  Well, — is  there  any- 
one besides  your  father  might  get  at  it  ?  In  the  house,  I 
mean.  What  about  the  man  who  drove  her,  for  instance  ? 
I  suppose  she  drove  round." 

"  Joliffe  is  exquisitely  discreet,"  said  Violet.  "  He  is 
used  to  driving  Mother." 

"  Good,"  said  John,  smiling.    "  Nobody  else  ?  " 

"  Yes.  There  is  Father's  secretary,  Mr.  Ford.  He 
knows  she  was  rung  up,  on  a  family  affair,  that  night. 
And  he  knows  Lisette's  tragedy,  from  Father.  He  is  per- 
fectly safe,  really,  if  only  Mother  would  believe  it.  But 
she  obviously  doesn't, — I  have  seen  to-day." 

"  So  have  I."  Mr.  Ingestre  remembered  the  morning's 
incident.  "Well, — who's  got  the  secretary  in  hand, — 
you  ?  "  He  touched  her  chin  again. 

"  It's  not  necessary,"  said  Violet  firmly,  "  I  assure  you. 
Mr.  Ford  is  perfectly,  absolutely  the  right  sort.  As  good 
as  Charles." 

"  Dear,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre  in  a  tone  Mrs.  Shovell 
chose  to  disregard.  She  looked  over  his  gray  head,  stead- 


i8o  DUKE  JONES 

ily.  It  was,  as  she  would  have  said,  a  question  of  fact, 
not  opinion,  whether  a  young  man  was  the  right  sort  or 
not.  Besides,  Cousin  John  ought  to  have  known  on 
sight, — and  did.  He  was  only  tiresomely  teasing,  as 
ancient  relations  do. 

"  Your  dear  mother  will  get  Mr.  Ford  turned  off,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Ingestre,  when  he  had  amused  his  eyes  for  a 
time.  The  girl  must  certainly  come  to  Ingestre  Hall  at 
Christmas,  he  decided.  She  would  be  an  acquisition.  "  I 
don't  set  up  to  be  a  prophet,  my  fair  Ellen:  but  that's 
what  will  happen  next." 

"  Oh  no,  it  won't  happen,"  returned  Violet.  "  You 
little  know  Father,  saying  that.  Father  loves  him  dearly. 
Mr.  Ford  has  learnt  all  FatHer's  most  peculiar  methods, 
and  snubs  his  worst  women  without  huffing  them,  and 
stands  his  viciousest  snaps  without  offense.  You  would 
really  say  Mr.  Ford  liked  to  be  pounced  upon  by  Father, 
— that  it  did  him  good,  somehow,  inside.  He  just  sits  in 
the  study  enjoying  it,  and  writing  neat  little  notes.  I  am 
perfectly  certain,  much  as  Mother  may  compass  in  life, 
that  she  will  never  compass  separating  those  two." 

"  How  beautiful,"  said  Cousin  John,  properly  im- 
pressed. "Is  this  paragon  coming  to-night?" 

"  He  is," — the  girl  blushed  a  little, — "  because  you  like 
music,  don't  you?  Mr.  Ford  is  a  musical  person, — had 
you  guessed  ?  I  dare  say  that  is  why  he  is  so  harmonious 
in  a  house,"  added  Violet.  "  He  has  always  chimed  in 
pleasantly,  from  the  first.  I  thought  you  would  like 
some  music,  after  dinner.  I  told  Mother  so,  firmly.  I 
was  young  when  you  came  before,  but  that  is  a  thing  I 
don't  forget." 

"  And  what  did  Mother  say  ?  "  said  John.  "  Did  she 
chime  in  pleasantly,  hey? — Ah,  just  look  at  me,  Violet," 
he  added.  "  Was  that  the  row  ?  " 

"That  was  the  row,"  the  girl  admitted.  "It  was  not 
much  of  one,  really.  Anyhow,  I  thought  it  would  be  very 
marked  to  leave  him  out,  our  first  meal  in  the  house. 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  181 

Charles  and  I  have  hardly  seen  him.  .  .  .  You  do 
like  music,  don't  you  ?  "  she  added,  timidly  rather. 

"  I  do,"  he  said.  He  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips  as  he 
spoke,  with  the  ease  of  a  past  school.  "  I  wish  I  could 
rise,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre.  "  I  am  certainly  not  worth  a 
single  tear.  You  are  a  sweet  little  girl,  worth  a  dozen  of 
her,  really." 

He  was  really  touched,  and  held  her  hand  in  silence  till 
Charles  came  in.  Hospitality, — true  hospitality, — was  a 
thing  these  Ashwins  knew.  He  seldom  stayed  in  a  house 
where  he  was  better  treated.  And  he  knew  enough  of 
Eveleen  to  be  convinced  that  the  credit  did  not  lie  there. 

When  Charles  came,  John  looked  at  him  very  crit- 
ically, but  certainly,  to  the  eye,  he  stood  such  fire  well. 
He  "  looked  all  right,"  and  more :  he  looked  comely,  and 
seemed  kind  to  her.  The  head  of  the  Ingestres, — who 
really  had  no  claim  whatever  to  Violet, — was  content. 
Then  came  the  other  nice  young  fellow,  Ford,  and  John 
watched  the  three  together  pensively.  He  liked  young 
people,  and  their  ways;  and  these  three  were  friendly 
and  pleasant, — and  made  room  for  him.  Cousin  John 
very  much  liked  to  be  made  room  for,  and  was  very  con- 
tent to  pay  with  flattery  when  he  was.  He  flattered,  till 
the  husband  turned  huffy,  and  grew  short  with  him ;  and 
that  amused  him  still  more. 

It  struck  him,  the  girl  kept  the  two  in  play  so  expertly, 
that  if  it  went  on  at  that  rate,  her  mother  would  be  vexed. 
This  slid  into  Mr.  Ingestre's  mind  as  a  natural  conception ; 
and  he  was  right,  as  usual.  Eveleen  was  vexed :  far  less 
loftily  composed  than  usual, — it  was  true  she  had  hardly 
been  herself  all  day ;  and  she  came  in  consequence  as  near 
as  her  cousin  had  ever  seen  her  to  being  outshone.  An 
awful  danger  loomed  in  front  of  Eveleen, — a  doom  that 
fatal  evening  foreshadowed.  Young  as  she  looked  still, 
one  dared  not  call  it  age.  It  was  eclipse.  .  .  .  Out- 
shone by  her  own  daughter,  in  her  own  house; — con- 


182  DUKE  JONES 

sidering  how  she  had  always  treated  the  daughter,  it  was 
rather  hard  on  Eveleen,  certainly. 

Mrs.  Shovell,  who  had  evidently  forgotten  that  she  had 
dressed  the  dinner-table  lately,  in  a  pinafore,  wore  her 
bridal  satin,  and  went  in  on  her  father's  arm.  That,  it 
struck  John,  was  how  he  had  seen  her  last,  only  on  this 
occasion  one  could  see  her  face,  which  was  an  advantage. 
It  was  clearly,  though  so  small,  something  of  an  occasion : 
at  least  she  rose  to  it  with  great  dignity.  But  conversation 
with  such  a  company  could  not  abide  by  the  strict  rules. 
Half-way  through  dinner,  John,  who  should  have  been 
talking  to  his  cousin,  leant  back  at  leisure,  and  reckoned 
it  out. 

They  were  four  men  and  two  women :  good  allowance 
for  the  women — two  to  each.  Well, — Claude  and  his 
daughter  played  together  capitally, — far  too  pretty  an 
exchange  of  love  and  liveliness  for  anyone  to  want  to 
detach  Claude.  That  was  one.  .  .  .  The  son-in-law, 
on  Lady  Ashwin's  other  hand,  was  fair  game  for  Eve- 
leen,— very  fair  game:  the  kind  of  lad  she  had  always 
liked,  and,  what  was  more,  she  liked  him  obviously. 
Well, — he  did  nothing  whatever  but  watch  his  wife,  ma- 
noeuvre for  her  notice,  and  glare  sidelong  at  young  Ford. 
That  was  two, — Mrs.  Shovell's  strict  allowance.  .  .  . 
Next,  there  was  the  secretary,  unpretending  nice  young 
man,  plumped  down  right  opposite  the  girl,  cut  off  from 
his  hostess  by  jealous  Charles.  Well, — what  do  you 
expect  ?  That  was  three  to  the  daughter.  .  .  .  There 
was,  finally  and  insurmountably,  Mr.  Ingestre  himself. 
Well — John  suddenly  remembered  Eveleen,  and  turned 
back  to  her.  And  he  had  admired  Eveleen,  you  know, 
between  you  and  me  and  the  bedpost,  married  and  un- 
married, all  his  life.  Well — in  short,  there  you  were ! 

And  to  crown  all,  by  every  right  and  tradition  known  to 
the  stock,  all  four  men  should  have  been  Eveleen's. 

This  perfectly  Ingestre  summary  of  the  Ashwin  din- 
ner-party is  offered  to  the  reader  respectfully,  as  far  bet- 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  183 

ter  than  any  less  refined  intelligence  could  even  attempt. 
It  gives  the  whole  thing  in  a  nut-shell,  and  accounts, 
abundantly,  for  Lady  Ashwin's  resentment.  She  made 
her  daughter  cry  before  dinner:  and  at  dinner,  all  un- 
aware, her  daughter  paid  her  back. 

"  She's  a  little  beauty,"  remarked  John  to  Eveleen,  just 
to  see  what  she  would  say.  "  I'd  no  idea  you  had  a  pretty 
daughter." 

"  Nor  had  I,"  said  Eveleen  indifferently.  "  I  suppose 
you've  seen  Violet  before." 

"  Oh  yes, — in  the  nursery ;  and  under  yards  of  chiffon 
at  her  wedding.  You  do  call  it  chiffon,  don't  you  ?  Any- 
how, it's  a  good  disguise.  I  never  yet  saw  a  girl  look 
well  at  her  wedding,"  said  John  thoughtfully,  "  I  suppose 
the  strain's  too  great." 

"  You  saw  me  married,"  said  Eveleen. 

"  Ah— no,  I  didn't.    I  turned  round." 

Lady  Ashwin's  fine  eyes  fell  on  her  daughter  a  moment. 
"  Violet's  been  crying,"  she  said. 

"  I  know,"  said  John  Ingestre.  "  And  I  know  why. 
Feeling  goes  for  something,  I  dare  say,"  he  added.  "  Is 
that  what  you  meant?  You  never  had  much  feeling, 
Eveleen."  A  pause. 

"  You  don't  know  why,"  said  Eveleen,  who  had  taken 
in  the  first  sentence  completely.  "  Violet  wouldn't  have 
told  you." 

"  Wouldn't  she  ?  I  might  know  without.  What  do  you 
bully  a  girl  for,  who's  perfectly  loyal  to  you,  and  serves 
you  the  whole  day  long?  Rank  bad  form,  I  call  that, — 
would  be,  for  a  man." 

Another  pause.  "  What  are  you  after,  John  ?  "  said 
Eveleen :  the  question  she  asked  so  commonly,  of  all  the 
world.  She  seemed  really  rather  curious. 

"  I'm  after  a  criminal,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre,  as  quietly, 
"  and  rather  a  low  breed.  But  I  don't  expect  to  look  for  it 
in  my  house." 


184  DUKE  JONES 

That  much,  he  thought,  she  deserved :  though  he  doubted 
greatly  if  she  took  his  meaning  in.  He  wished,  if  pos- 
sible, to  frighten  her, — and  to  keep  her  off  that  little 
girl.  If  she  meant  to  poison  the  first  year  of  matrimony, 
John  had  little  doubt  that  Eveleen  could:  but  it  struck 
him  as  a  sickening  proceeding  on  the  part  of  a  woman 
who  had  lived  and  thriven,  all  her  life,  on  passion  purely, 
not  respect.  Mr.  Ingestre  got  so  far,  and  then,  with  a 
courtly  instinct,  left  the  subject  in  his  thoughts.  It  only 
occurred  to  him,  he  was  sometimes  glad,  in  spite  of  every- 
thing, that  he  had  not  married  Eveleen. 

Just  after  this,  he  reached  his  left  arm  to  Violet, 
grasped  hers  gently,  and  asked  her  to  tell  him,  very 
gravely,  which  were  the  "  shades."  Claude  seemed  in- 
terested too  in  the  point,  and  young  Ford  opposite  leant 
forward.  The  jealous  husband  was  left  out,  and  Eve- 
leen got  him.  That  was  only  fair,  thought  John. 

"  I  thought  you  were  talking  to  Mother,"  said  Mrs. 
Shovell,  turning.  "  I  am  so  sorry  I  jumped.  I  somehow 
had  not  thought  of  you,  Cousin  John." 

He  liked  her  awfully:  her  mischievous  ways  were 
sweet,  between  him  and  her  father :  and  her  musical  ways 
were  sweeter  still.  That  was  the  final  charm, — bound  to 
be  so,  to  this  particular  man. 

"  Do  you  play  ?  "  said  Charles,  surprised,  when,  at  the 
inevitable  moment,  in  resignation,  his  wife  arose. 

"  A  little,  dear,"  said  Violet,  stopping.  "  Do  you  like 
music  ?  " 

Both  the  elder  men  laughed  aloud,  and  young  Ford, 
really  indignant,  glared  at  Charles. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  didn't  know?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  On  my  honor,"  said  Charles,  "  I  hadn't  the  least  idea. 
How  should  I,  never  having  seen  her  at  it  ?  "  he  added 
naively. 

"  It's  hearing  matters,"  observed  Ford.  "  I  say,  I  sup- 
pose you  have  got  a  piano,  Mrs.  Shovell  ?  " 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  185 

"  No,"  said  Violet.  "  This  is  mine.  Even  Father  had 
to  think  twice  before  he  gave  me  a  second  as  good, — 
and  he  couldn't  very  well  give  me  a  worse  one, — and 
he's  thinking  still." 

John  Ingestre  aroused.  "  Not  a  piano  in  your  house  ?  " 
he  said.  "  A  house  without  a  piano,  Claude  ?  What's 
this?" 

"  It  is  as  she  says,"  said  Claude.  "  This  is  hers,  and 
she  prefers  it:  so  she  comes  here  to  practice,  the  times 
she  can.  It  isn't  as  often  as  we'd  like,"  he  added  gently. 

"  Humph ! "  said  John,  mastering  the  situation  in  all 
its  details,  marvelously.  "  Eveleen !  " 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Lady  Ash  win,  who  had  not  entered  the 
discussion,  though  it  had  faintly  amused  her,  as  was  evi- 
dent by  her  eyes. 

"  When's  your  silver  wedding? — I  forget." 

"  Not  for  ages  yet,"  said  Eveleen.    "  Is  it,  Claude  ?  " 

"  Ten  years,"  he  said  dryly.    "  I  mean  three." 

"  Three  looking  away  from  you,"  her  cousin  ex- 
pounded, "  and  ten,  at.  That's  what  Claude  means.  Now, 
Eveleen,  attend:  I'll  give  you  a  piano  for  the  occasion, 
and  I'll  anticipate  the  occasion  by  three  years." 

"  We  don't  want  another,"  said  Lady  Ashwin.  "  It 
looks  stupid :  and  besides,  there's  barely  room." 

"  And  you  give  Violet's  up  to  her,"  proceeded  John 
steadily.  "  Do  you  follow  the  transaction  ? — Fully  ? — 
Quite  ? — Violet,  my  dear," — he  turned  his  head, — "  will 
you  come  with  me  and  choose  your  mother's  piano  to- 
morrow? I  shall  just  have  time  before  my  train." 

"  I  will,"  said  the  girl,  flushing.  She  moved  swiftly 
across,  and  it  was  she  who  thanked  Mr.  Ingestre  for  the 
silver-wedding  present,  with  a  kiss. 

After  that,  having  simply  stated  that  she  was  out  of 
practice,  she  played, — everything  that  her  father  de- 
manded. Her  father  knew  what  he  wanted,  too,  and  Mr. 
Ingestre  discovered  a  new  sympathy  for  Claude.  He  was 
a  startling  fellow,  always  breaking  out  in  new  directions ; 


186  DUKE  JONES 

but  this  was  a  direction  Mr.  Ingestre  approved:  he  had 
always  approved  it,  in  man  or  woman  either.  He  adored 
music,  and  understood  it.  The  girl  was  out  of  practice : 
she  made  several  mistakes,  and  slurred  some  passages: 
being  nervous  at  starting,  she  stopped  once;  but  the 
choice,  reading  and  manner  were  alike  exquisite,  partic- 
ularly the  manner. 

"  I  feel  young,"  said  John,  alluding  to  it.  "  Youth, — 
there's  nothing  like  it, — it's  divine."  He  had  risen,  pain- 
fully as  he  moved  at  all  times,  just  to  look  at  her  on  the 
piano-stool,  from  where  he  stood  by  the  hearth.  "  Youth, 
and  the  world  to  come,"  he  murmured,  gazing  intently, 
and  speaking  under  cover  of  a  quiet  passage.  "  She  will 
make  it,  she  holds  the  key."  Then  he  looked  down  at 
Charles,  who  was  flushed  even  before  the  words  reached 
him,  and  said,  low  but  distinctly, — "  You  are  a  happy 
man." 

Eveleen  Ashwin  heard  it  all,  and  saw  it.  She  had  to 
see,  she  was  tied.  And  she  heard  Hubert  Ford  sing  his 
love-songs, — and  saw  how  he  looked  at  his  accompanist. 
"  My  love  is  fresh  as  a  lilac-bush," — that  meant  youth  as 
well, — in  German,  but  unluckily  Eveleen  understood  it :  a 
heavenly,  rushing,  rustling  clamor  of  spring  and  hope. 
And  she  saw,  none  could  avoid  seeing  in  the  delicate 
candle-light,  the  girl-player's  own  expression,  intent  and 
dimly  radiant, — ready.  And  she  saw  Claude's  eyes,  dark 
and  weary,  resting  beyond  her,  on  something  she  could 
never  reach,  with  the  look  they  had  had  once,  long  since, 
when  they  rested  upon  her.  Charles  she  would  not  look 
at,  she  refused.  .  .  .  But  John, — cool,  critical  John, 
— moved  to  tears  almost,  charmed, — it  was  hard  indeed, 
very  hard  to  bear, — for  a  mother! 

It  was  gone  from  her,  gone :  youth  was  gone  as  well : 
confidence,  worst  of  all,  was  shorn  from  her,  at  least  for 
those  miserable  minutes  while  her  daughter  played,  and 
all  emotion  stirred  faster,  even  hers.  Confidence  left  her, 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  187 

and  she  hated  Violet.  The  thing  Charles  had  fore: 
shadowed  to  Margery  Brading,  delayed  long  by  lazi- 
ness and  idle  tolerance  of  a  serviceable  thing,  came  that 
night  to  pass.  She  knew  she  hated,  and  she  knew  why. 
It  is  useless  to  state  why,  completely;  for  the  Ingestre 
range  of  thought  and  feeling  was  so  utterly  simple, — a 
child  could  guess. 

in 

Violet's  cousin,  Margery  Brading,  was  the  first  to  hear, 
because  Margery  was  the  nearest  to  a  sister  Violet  had 
known,  and  much  more  than  a  mere  step-sister  to  Charles : 
and  also  because  she  conveniently  came  round  to  pass  an 
hour  that  morning  with  Violet,  since  she  had  heard  in 
some  quarter  the  girl  was  not  looking  well.  Margery, 
being  a  happy  mother,  had  her  own  affairs — or  rather 
affair — to  talk  about;  and  the  charms,  talents  and  odd- 
ities of  the  young  affair  known  to  both,  for  convenience 
in  the  Brading  domestic  circles,  as  "  Bobbin,"  would 
have  filled  up  all  the  time  at  their  disposal  even  without 
Violet's  assistance:  and  she  assisted  sedulously. 

She  assisted  till  the  last  moment,  when  Lady  Brading 
was  flinging  on  her  furs  preparatory  to  departure;  and 
then,  having  apparently  reflected  on  a  distant  sofa  for  a 
period,  she  spoke : 

"  I  should  like  to  make  some  clothes  for  the  sweet," 
said  Violet,  "but  really " 

Probably  nobody  in  the  world  but  a  mother  and  Mar- 
gery,— a  mother  who  was  Margery, — would  have  known 
by  this  broken  sentence  that  she  was  receiving  informa- 
tion. 

"  Violet,  darling !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  passion.  "  It's 
not  true?" 

Violet  shrank  a  little,  turned  her  eyes  aside,  out  of  the 
window,  and  remarked  that  what  really  worried  her  was 
what  the  relationship  would  be. 

"  First  cousins,  of  course,"  said  Bobbin's  mother. 


i88  DUKE  JONES 

"  Second  cousins,  surely.    You  and  I  are  first." 

Violet  flashed  a  glance  at  Margery,  who  saw  at  once 
that  she  was  very  shy.  Indeed,  if  she  had  been  enabled 
to  think  at  all  in  advance  she  would  have  known  she 
would  be  so. 

"  I  am  just  going  to  give  you  one  kiss,"  she  announced 
from  the  window,  "  and  then  we  will  talk  of  something 
else." 

"  Bobbin,"  said  Violet.  "  Thank  you  immensely,  dear- 
est. You  are  perfect." 

"  I  believe  what  I  really  like  best  about  you  is  the  shape 
of  your  face,"  said  Margery  thoughtfully,  having  de- 
posited the  kiss.  (We  make  all  possible  excuses  for  these 
two  erratic  young  women.  Lady  Brading  was  a  portrait 
painter,  if  that  helps  her  case  at  all.) 

"  Mother  seems  to  think  I  am  getting  on,"  responded 
Violet.  "  Sometimes  I  may  be  decent-looking,  according 
to  Mother.  It  is  a  great  relief,  to  Charles  and  everybody, 
to  know  that  from  such  an  authority." 

"  Uncle  Claude, — oh,  won't  he  be  delighted !  "  said 
Margery,  taking  everybody  in  turn,  and  making  obvious 
remarks  about  them,  which  is  the  correct  form  on  the 
occasion.  Margery  was  "perfect,"  that  is,  mildly  cor- 
rect, in  this  company,  by  intuition.  Margery  was  the 
Ashwin  side,  a  great  relief.  Her  pretty  tranquil  face, 
framed  in  its  winter  furs,  was  soothing  equally,  and 
Violet  lay  watching  it  intently. 

"  Father  is  coming  to  breakfast  to-morrow,"  she  re- 
marked. "  He  never  gets  any  breakfast  at  home  now- 
adays, so  he  may  as  well.  I  told  him  so,  in  a  note,  this 
morning;  and  he  will  be  very  happy,  on  a  post-card,  to- 
night." 

"  Perhaps  he  will  profoundly  regret,"  said  Margery. 
"  It  would  have  been  kinder  to  warn  him." 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  Violet.  "-In  the  case,  far 
kinder  to  delude.  I  have  taken  the  precautions  to  annex 
another  doctor  in  advance." 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  189 

"  But,  my  dear !  "  protested  Margery.  "  Won't  he  be 
hurt?" 

"  Desperately,"  said  Violet,  "  and  so  relieved.  Father 
would  be  quite  too  nervy  for  anything;  and  I  am  bad 
enough,  goodness  knows.  There  would  be  a  pair  of  us. 
Consequently,  darling,  I  have  circumvented  Sir  Claude, — 
and  he  will  hate  me." 

"  What  a  satisfaction,"  said  Margery,  since  that  was 
the  affectionate  tone. 

"  Isn't  it?  He  will  rather  love  it,  though,"  said  Violet, 
her  harassed  look  softening.  "  He  does  so  like  it  all,  in 
his  heart.  I  have  often  thought,  dear,  that  Father  would 
really  have  liked  there  to  be  another  of  me,  only,  consid- 
ering my  general  want  of  attraction,  Mother  really 
couldn't  see  the  necessity.  So  Father  resigned  himself, 
and  concentrated.  What  is  it,  dearest  ?  " 

"  You  have  such  a  way  of  putting  things,"  said  Mar- 
gery, laughing  hopelessly  into  the  sofa  cushions,  for  she 
was  still  kneeling  at  Violet's  side.  "You  are  madder 
than  usual  to-day." 

"  Well,  really !  "  said  Violet.  "If  you  had  sat  here  for 
an  hour  thinking  about  it,  before  you  came!  Since  you 
came,  owing  to  Bobbin  and  such  things,  I  have  been  much 
happier."  She  put  her  delicate  hand  across  her  face. 
"  Picture  Mother,  for  instance,  her  pleasure  and  surprise, 
— she  has  so  dreamed  of  being  a  grandmother,  hasn't  she  ? 
— for  years.  She  will  be  ready  to  tear  my  eyes  out," 
said  Mrs.  Shovell  dreamily.  "  Father  must  break  it  to 
her  really, — I  can't." 

"  Darling,"  said  Margery,  getting  anxious,  "  are  you  all 
right  ?  You  know,  I  don't  like  leaving  you  now,  and  yet 
I  ought  to  go.  Oh,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  an  hour  ago  ?  " 
cried  indignant  Margery,  "  then  we  might  have  got  some- 
thing done." 

"  But  not  Bobbin,"  said  Violet.  "  Yes,  go  to  him,  dear : 
I  am  better  alone.  .  .  .  Tell  me,  Margery, — did  you 
ever  dream  of  spiders?  Large  black  hairy  ones, — clam- 


190  DUKE  JONES 

bering  about, — walking  all  over  some  lovely  little  saintly 
thing?" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my  dearest  ?  "  Young  Lady 
Brading,  shocked  and  moved,  put  her  arms  round  her. 
"  You  really  must  not  think  of  things  like  that.  What 
can  you  have  been  doing,  Violet?  " 

"  Nothing.  I  am  learning  to  do  nothing, — it  is  the  only 
way.  It  only  happens  after  she  comes  in  for  a  pleasant 
evening's  talk, — my  mother,  I  mean.  She  doesn't  do  it 

often,  but She  will  talk  of  domestic  matters,  you 

understand, — Charles, — I  cannot  bear  it.  I  wish  she 
would  keep  away.  Don't  tell  anybody.  I  only  thought 
you, — I  only  hoped, — nothing  was  wrong." 

Lady  Brading  clasped  and  kissed  and  soothed  her, 
talking  from  her  higher  plane  of  happy  maternity  and 
natural  good  sense.  She  made  things  better  too,  a  good 
deal,  before  she  departed ;  but  she  did  not  like  it.  Turning 
it  over,  and  Violet's  looks,  in  the  carriage,  she  even 
thought  seriously  of  diverting  her  course  to  Harley 
Street,  and  getting  a  few  words  there  with  her  uncle 
Claude;  only — well,  there  was  Bobbin  at  home,  so  Mar- 
gery did  not. 

That  authority  heard  the  next  morning.  He  assured 
Violet  he  had  breakfasted  when  he  came,  after  Charles' 
departure,  at  half-past  nine;  but  she  treated  him  with 
calm  contempt. 

"  I  know.  A  cup  of  cold  coffee  in  the  study,  while  you 
scribble  lists  of  sickening  drugs  for  Hubert  Ford.  If 
Mother  does  not  dismiss  that  girl  soon,  I  shall.  You  are 
breakfasting  with  me,  and  you  sit  down  there.  I  am  not 
good  for  much,"  said  Violet,  with  intensity,  "  and  Charles 
has  no  letters  to  his  name  at  present,  but  hot  coffee  I  can 
arrive  at,  without  breaking  either  myself,  or  him.  It's 
quite  fresh,  and  I  made  it.  Now,  behave." 

Sir  Claude  behaved.  "  I  am  sorry  you  are  not  good 
for  much,"  he  said  politely. 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  191 

She  was  daintily  clad  and  finished  as  usual, — Violet 
was  not  a  person  to  whom  trailing  draperies  in  the  morn- 
ing hours  appealed ;  but  she  was  pale  and  large-eyed,  and 
had  the  little  desperate  look  he  knew.  Nor  did  she  meet 
his  eyes,  affording  him  at  most  a  gray  flash  at  intervals. 

"  Charles,"  said  Violet,  folding  her  hands  on  the  table, 
"  had  the  most  terrible  toothache  yesterday.  It  lasted 
just  an  hour  by  my  watch.  It  went  as  suddenly  as  it 
came.  We  sat  taking  notes  of  the  phenomenon." 

"  Was  that  why  I  was  asked  to  drop  in  ?  "  asked  Sir 
Claude. 

"  You  dropped  in  to  breakfast,"  said  Violet,  surprised. 
"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  Surely  you  filed  the 
invitation  ?  " 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure.  Yes,  I  filed  it."  He  drew  his  cup  to 
him — it  smelt  extremely  good, — and  looked  round  the 
pretty  table,  with  its  new  linen  and  old  silver,  with  un- 
conscious pleasure,  and  relief  of  the  eye.  "  This  is  de- 
lightful," he  said  vaguely.  "  I  wish  we  had  a  little  more 
time." 

"  Are  you  still  thinking  of  a  consultation  ? "  asked 
Violet  warningly.  "  We  have  plenty  of  time :  all  the 
morning  if  I  wish.  Charles'  toothache  was  not  sympto- 
matic, it  was  a  domestic  incident,  of  thrilling  interest  to 
us  both.  We  used  laudanum,  and  thought  of  our  latter 
ends.  I  thought  of  his,  you  know.  ...  So  few 
things  happen  in  our  house."  She  leant  her  head  on 
her  hand. 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  it,"  said  Sir  Claude.  He  began 
to  let  anxiety  go, — he  had  rather  a  habit  of  anxiety, — and 
enjoyed  himself.  He  found  to  his  surprise  he  was  hungry, 
having  worked  for  two  hours  before  Ford  came;  above 
all,  the  sensation  of  being  managed  pleased  him.  Like  all 
persons  formed  and  created  to  organize,  he  delighted  in 
being  himself  taken  in  hand.  Organizing  anything,  even 
breakfast,  was  not  a  thing  that  suited  Eveleen's  genius, — 
in  short,  the  circumstances  in  his  daughter's  house  were 


192  DUKE  JONES 

agreeable.  Presently  Violet  made  him  laugh,  and  just 
afterwards,  he  made  her.  Then,  since  his  cup  was  empty, 
and  he  was  examining  the  china  absently  instead  of 
regarding  her  extended  hand,  she  rose  and  walked  round 
to  his  side. 

"  A  little  more  coffee,  grandpapa  ?  "  she  said  lightly. 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Sir  Claude, — and  then  sprang  up 
like  a  shot. 

After  that,  Mrs.  Shovell  had  exactly  the  diversion  she 
had  promised  herself,  and  enjoyed  it  to  the  full. 

Leaving  all  question  of  coffee  in  the  background,  he 
followed  her  to  the  hearth,  torn  between  his  two  capac- 
ities,— all  his  capacities,  indeed:  since  intimate  friend, 
and  honored  guest,  were  included ;  acutely  eager  to  hear 
all  details,  terribly  afraid  of  annoying  the  susceptibil- 
ities known  to  him  from  childhood,  anxious  above  all 
things  to  be  calm,  considerate  and  correct.  It  was  alto- 
gether a  faultless  performance  on  Sir  Claude's  part,  and 
highly  discreditable  on  Violet's.  She  managed  to  tell  him 
nothing  at  all,  while  she  talked  with  the  greatest  freedom 
and  friendliness. 

"  I  have  such  a  nice  doctor,"  said  Violet.  "  Rather  a 
special  line,  you  know,  ancient  and  deliberate.  Not  a 
hydra-headed  all-round  man,  rather  too  young-looking  to 
be  safe.  The  sort  that  knows  his  job,  and  is  rather 
bored  with  cases,  and  wears  a  ring  round  his  tie.  He 
thinks  me  like  anybody  else,  I  notice,  and  agrees  with 
me  in  detesting  fuss.  He  certainly  will  not  take  me  seri- 
ously. We  talk  about  the  Housing  Problem,  and  get  on 
capitally." 

"  You — mischief !  "  he  said  hopelessly.  "  Pussy, — lis- 
ten :  just  one  thing,  necessary " 

"  No,"  she  assured  him ;  "  it's  not  done.  Rise  to  your 
part,  I  beseech  you.  Think,  hard,  what  a  mere  father 
does  on  these  occasions.  He  is  gravely  pleased,  in  a 
dressing-gown,  on  a  hearth-rug,  to  hear  this  news." 

"  Well,  I  am  not  in  a  dressing-gown :  and  I  am  not 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  193 

gravely  pleased, — I  am  distractedly.  Nor  does  he  hear 
first-hand,"  pursued  Sir  Claude,  rousing.  "  A  mere 
mother,  I  mean,  hears  first.  Regard  me  as  a  mere  mother, 
Violet,  at  least:  surely  that  will  work."  He  looked  be- 
seeching. 

"  No,  my  precious,  it  will  not :  for  the  reason  that  you 
are  not  feminine.  '  Whatever  my  Pa  is,  Ma,  he  is  not  a 
female,' "  quoted  Violet  from  the  favorite  author. 
"  Didn't  La vinia  say  that?  Do  look  up  Lavinia.  All  the 
proprieties,  and  my  nice  nature,  forbid  me  to  speak  to 
you.  You  have  only  to  look  to  see  how  shy  I  am."  She 
looked  delicious  and  wicked, — nothing  else.  "  Take  it 
standing  up,  Father  dear:  or  rather,  sitting  down  and 
drinking  your  coffee.  It  is  far  the  best,  believe  me." 

She  finished  facing  him,  and  earnestly.  His  real  dis- 
tress, mixed  with  about  equal  embarrassment  and  amuse- 
ment, reached  her  eye.  He  was  being  teased  delightfully, 
and  she  loved  it ;  and  so,  in  spite  of  everything,  did  he. 

"  Oh,  I  will  tell  you  one  little  thing,"  she  cried,  "  be- 
cause your  face  is  so  nice  and  miserable.  Sit  down, — on 
your  knee,  yes, — listen  eloquently,  now.  Do  you  mind 
informing  my  mere  Mother,  at  home?  And  if  she  is 
gravely  displeased,  on  a  hearth-rug,  or  wherever  it  is,  not 
telling  me?  Because — I — can't.  .  .  .  And  keep  her 
there,  Father,  do  you  mind  ?  When  the  littlest  thing  goes 
wrong,  these  days,  I  am  a  perfect  fool.  .  .  .  And 
promise  to  remain  my  mere  father  to  the  end, — to  the 
end,"  she  repeated,  evidently  serious  and  anxious  about  it. 

So,  seeing  no  other  way  to  compose  her,  he  promised ; 
and  they  agreed  after  a  little  nonsense  to  return  to  break- 
fast. 

Being  a  society  man,  and  a  subtle  scientist,  Sir  Claude 
proceeded  to  mislead  his  daughter  utterly.  Violet  had  put 
the  incident  behind  her,  as  was  evident,  but  he  had  not. 
He  was  profoundly  moved  by  an  occurrence  anyone,  and 
especially  he,  ought  to  have  foreseen, — but  Violet  saw 
nothing  of  his  emotion,  and  she  grew  calm.  Calmer  at 


194  DUKE  JONES 

least,  for  he  noticed  several  nervous  tricks  of  her  slight 
hands  that  were  new  to  him :  and  he  much  suspected  the 
immense  breakfast  she  had  already  had,  with  Charles,  was 
a  fraud.  So  was  the  immense  breakfast  she  was  going  to 
have,  with  Father,  while  Charles  was  discussing  his  at 
eight  o'clock.  These  things  can  be  managed,  by  simple 
art, — but  they  can  also  be  detected. 

Violet  and  her  father  talked  about  Honoria  Adden- 
broke,  who  was  to  arrive  that  evening.  Violet  wondered 
if  Father  had  any  of  those  horrid  little  books  with  head- 
ings, on  the  subject  of  the  Higher  Branches;  including 
some  delightful  things  called  logarithms,  which  had  al- 
ways especially  attracted  her.  She  foresaw  a  long  and 
happy  discussion  upon  logarithms,  with  Honoria,  at  din- 
ner. Afterwards,  smoking  with  Charles,  Honoria  would 
probably  be  content  with  the  calculus. 

"  Coffee  and  calculus,"  said  Violet,  "  are  sure  to  go  well 
together.  Don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,"  said  Claude,  on  exactly 
the  same  level  of  absurdity,  "  but  I  fear  such  minute 
alliterative  attentions  will  be  wasted.  Miss  Addenbroke 
has  long  since  forgotten  all  about  the  calculus;  she  will 
prove  a  wrangler  but  in  name." 

"  Oh,"  said  Violet,  "  how  interesting !  I  forgot, — now 
I  can  get  an  opinion  from  the  other  shop.  (That  is 
Charles, — don't  blame  me.)  Pray  proceed:  what  is  the 
true  dark-blue  feeling  about  Wranglers  ?  " 

"  They  are  excellent  and  intelligent  people,"  said  the 
doctor,  now  upon  his  guard.  "  All  I  have  known.  But 
one  does  not  address  them  on  their  subject  in  the  even- 
ings. They  usually  have  some  other  simple  taste, — say 
beetles." 

"  Beetles,"  pondered  Violet,  pulling  at  her  curl.  "  Well, 
I  could  do  that,  for  Honoria,  as  it  happens.  I  met  a  beetle 
in  here  this  morning,  walking  about  the  floor, — a  black 
one.  Annette  screamed,  and  startled  me.  Perhaps  they 
do  not  have  them  in  her  home." 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  195 

Claude  played  with  his  spoon  and  said  decidedly,  "  Kill 
it:  kill  them  all." 

"  Being  the  first,  I  did  not,"  said  Violet.  "  I  treated  it 
as  a  caller, — wedding  call.  I  just  explained  gently  with 
my  shoe  that  this  was  not  its  house  and  it  had  better 
go  back  again." 

"  Is  that  how  you  treat  callers  ?  "  said  Claude,  turning 
his  dark  eyes  upon  her  face. 

"  Yes."  The  girl  laughed  suddenly,  and  recovered  un- 
certainly. "  You  don't  amuse  me,  Father,  so  you  needn't 
think  it.  This  is  no  time  to  jest.  It  is  a  season  to  be 
serious  now,  for  all  the  world.  I  am  terribly  nervous  of 
Honoria, — terribly.  Talk  of  beetles  " — her  voice  shook, 
— "  she  will  crush  me  like  a  worm." 

Sir  Claude  got  up,  no  jesting  look  upon  his  face.  "  Just 
so,"  he  said.  "  That  is  what  I  was  trying  to  find  out.  I 
will  telegraph  to  Miss  Addenbroke  at  once — and  she 
will  come  to  me." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Violet,  much  alarmed.  She  caught  him 
with  her  hand.  "  It  is  like  you  to  propose  it,  Father  dear, 
but  it  will  not  save  me.  Mother  will  hate  her  horribly, 
don't  you  see  ?  It  will  make  it  twice  as  bad  for  me,  trust 
my  word.  I  want  her  really, — I  wasn't  serious, — I  asked 
her  here.  Oh,  good  heavens !  " — she  stopped,  furious. 
"  Why,  why  are  you  so  good  always,  and  I  quite  unable 
to  repay?  It  is  frightful  for  me, — frightful!  I  had 
sooner  you  washed  your  hands  of  me,  a  little  bit,  some- 
times. It  would  be  so  much  easier, — do  you  mind  ?  " 

She  stopped,  still  furious  with  the  situation,  and  her- 
self. For  he  was  looking  at  her  gravely,  the  doctor-look 
she  most  feared.  He  must  not  be  anxious  until  this  inter- 
view was  over,  until  she  had  Honoria  flattered,  and 
cajoled,  and  chained,  as  it  were,  away  from  her  mother's 
throat.  Eveleen  had  betrayed  her  suspicion  and  fear  of 
Lisette's  sister,  whose  persistence  in  coming  looked  like 
suspicion  on  her  side.  That  meeting  Violet  feared  fever- 
ishly, above  all.  Both  women  of  violent  natures,  under 


196  DUKE  JONES 

a  cool  front,  it  might  well  be  abominable,  for  witnesses. 
Violet  had  been  learning  her  mother  a  little  too  well  of 
late, — had  almost  doubted  her  reason,  at  times,  she  harped 
on  one  idea  so  strangely.  Her  father  must  not  be  al- 
lowed to  see  the  unhealthy  quality  of  her  fear.  She 
dropped  her  eyes,  swerving  from  him. 

"  Since  I  am  not  attending  to  you,  my  dear,"  he  said, 
after  a  pause,  "  will  you  let  me  send  for  the  gentleman 
who  is?" 

"  No."  Violet  broke  suddenly  into  nervous  sobbing. 
"  Stay  yourself, — I  love  you.  It  is  not  that,  at  all :  my 
soul,  I  think.  This  is  not  your  daughter, — simply  a  fool. 
Let  be  a  moment." 

He  let  be,  watching  her  with  the  same  still  gravity.  He 
knew  only  too  well,  only  too  surely,  where  the  blame 
should  lie  for  this.  He  blamed  himself,  now  that  he 
knew,  for  not  keeping  her  mother  off  her, — he  should 
have  known  enough  of  Eveleen  to  have  thought  of  it. 
That  they  were  withholding  something  from  him  now  he 
could  not  doubt:  nor  whom  it  concerned.  At  moments 
Claude  was  very  near  the  truth;  but  much  as  he  loved 
truth,  he  barely  wanted  to  reach  it.  Whatever  Eveleen 
had  done,  it  was  not  her  fault,  nor  the  judgment  of  it  on 
him,  but  the  effects  on  Violet  he  feared ;  and  that  was  the 
thing  that,  with  all  his  wit  and  wisdom,  he  could  barely 
touch.  He  himself  was  the  link  between  the  two:  the 
wife  who  clung  to  him — for  it  was  so  now — for  the  com- 
forts he  could  give  her ;  and  the  child  to  whom  he  clung, 
for  consolation  and  confidence'  sake.  Yet  he  would  have 
carried  Eveleen,  thus  bound  to  him,  to  the  furthest  Pole, 
sooner  than  see  this.  He  must  feel  responsible  for  every 
instant's  nervous  anguish  in  this  girl  whose  nature  was  his 
own. 

"  You  are  torturing  me,  Violet,"  he  said  at  last,  quite 
simply.  "  Let  me  go.  The  commonest  fool  of  a  prac- 
titioner in  this  town  could  help  you  with  a  simple  pre- 
scription. You  are  mistaken,  this  is  not  your  soul.  It  is 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  197 

folly  least  of  all.  It  is  the  least  futile  thing  in  the  world, 
by  far.  It  is  hardly  fair  to  tie  my  hands  when  I  can  help 
you  so  easily.  I  have  borne  a  good  deal,  these  months 
past, — but  this !  "  Torture  was  hardly  too  strong  a  word 
for  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"Just  for  this  morning,"  gasped  Violet,  "help  me 
then." 

And  "  just  for  that  morning,"  Claude  did.  He  put  off 
a  personage  of  note  for  her,  carelessly.  Hubert  Ford 
came  round,  and  was  sent  back,  rather  pink  in  the  face, 
with  the  coolest  and  most  cutting  of  all  Sir  Claude's  well- 
graded  list  of  excuses.  So  the  duke,  or  the  duke's  foot- 
man, had  to  wait. 

IV 

After  lunch  Claude  spoke  to  his  wife  quietly,  told  her 
the  fact,  and  that  her  maternal  cares  were  not  wanted. 

"  You  must  go  elsewhere  for  conversation,"  he  said, 
"  or  stay  with  me.  I  am  not  to  be  her  doctor,  she  says, — 
so  heaven  knows  I  shall  want  diverting.  We  had  best 
amuse  one  another,  till  she  is  safe." 

For  years  now  he  had  not  spoken  to  her  so  seriously,  or 
in  such  a  friendly  tone.  He  thought  it  just  worth  trying, 
in  the  case.  Eveleen,  staring  at  him,  marveled  what  he 
was  "  after." 

"  A  child?  "  she  said  slowly.    "  Violet?  " 

"Your  grandchild.     Can  you  face  it?" 

She  turned  away  from  him,  and  said,  "  Why  didn't  she 
tell  me,  last  night  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  say  to  her,  last  night  ? "  he  asked, 
strenuously  quiet,  since  his  quest  was  for  the  truth. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know, — I  teased  her  a  bit.  .  .  .  She's 
such  a  little  silly  about  Charles.  Violet  always  was  high- 
falutin,  great  feelings  and  so  on.  It's  absurd  to  have 
them,  about  a  man  like  that." 

"  You  suspect  him  of  not  repaying  them?  Upon  what 
ground  ?  " 


198  DUKE  JONES 

Eveleen  smiled  slowly,  very  slightly, — a  look  he  hated 
and  feared.  He  had  known  it  appear  of  old,  in  countless 
cases,  when  she  had  set  a  snare.  He  kept  his  temper  with 
an  effort,  an  immense  one,  and  went  up  to  her. 

"  Eveleen,"  he  said,  "  would  you  trust  me  on  the  sub- 
ject of  disease?"  She  just  looked  at  him,  moving  an 
eyelid.  "  You  are  diseased  with  vanity,  that  is  all.  You 
always  flatter  yourself,  since  it  has  been  true  in  a  few 
cases,  that  no  man  can  resist  you.  Well,  let  me  tell  you 
a  thing  to  save  your  pains,  since  you  regard  labor-saving. 
It  is  far  too  late  for  Charles." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Eveleen,  and  laughed.  "  I  know  it  is. 
Claude,  you  are  funny,  really !  Why  should  you  think  I 
meant  myself?  You  have  just  told  me  I  am  going  to  be 
a  grandmother."  Smiling  as  she  was,  the  vanity  he  had 
challenged  lay  in  every  line  of  her  face. 

"  Whom  else  should  you  think  of  ?  "  said  he,  rather 
low. 

Lady  Ashwin  made  a  struggle,  but  idle  mischief  con- 
quered, and  she  cut  herself  adrift.  It  was  like  her  too, 
what  she  said, — a  piece  of  magnificent  audacity,  tempting 
fate. 

"  Did  you  know  they  had  seen  Lisette,  down  at  that 
place?" 

He  started,  just  visible  to  her  eye.  "  Lisette?  On  the 
tour,  you  mean?  You  are  dreaming." 

"  I  am  not.  Ask  Violet.  She  stayed  at  their  hotel.  She 
told  them  some  lie  or  other,  and  they  supposed  it  was  all 
right.  They  knew  nothing  about  her  business,  of  course ; 
but  she  was  there." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  after  a  long  pause,  turned  away  from 
her.  "What  then?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.    I  thought  I'd  mention  it." 

Thought  she  would  mention !  That  was  how  Eveleen 
worked :  threw  down  a  bait  in  her  snare,  and  watched  it. 

"  No  doubt  you  also  thought  you  would  mention  it  to 
Violet,"  he  said  steadily,  "  or  the  next  thing  that  came. 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  199 

May  I  know  the  next  thing  also?  Excuse,"  he  added, 
"  my  curiosity." 

"  You're  really  anxious  to  know,"  said  Eveleen.  She 
had  flashes  of  fearful  penetration  at  times,  among  her 
random  impulses.  "  Really,  I  forget — I  said  a  lot  to 
Violet  last  night.  Well,  you  know  John  found  out  she 
stayed  at  the  Langham  here, — Lisette,  I  mean.  I  thought 
that  nonsense, — the  Langham, — though  I  said  nothing 
to  John.  I  rather  hoped  he  was  on  a  wild-goose  chase, 
— it  looks  so  stupid,  limping  round,  where  police  and 
people  have  been  before.  Doesn't  it,  Claude?  But  he 
wasn't — perhaps  you  heard.  She  had  been  there." 

"  Well?  "  he  said,  still  intent. 

"  Well, — it  appears,  Charles  knew  where  she  was,  all 
that  day.  He  didn't  let  on  to  Violet,  but  he  had  known. 
I  suppose  Lisette  told  him." 

"  And  whence,"  said  Claude,  "  do  you  get  that  valuable 
information  ?  " 

"  From  Violet.  Ask  her.  She  found  out.  .  .  . 
And  she  told  me  herself  he  had  admired  her,"  said  Eve- 
leen reflectively. 

Claude  stared  at  her,  quite  hopeless.  She  never  failed 
to  impress  even  while  she  shamed  him.  She  was  giving 
herself  away,  right  into  his  hands,  to  glut  a  passing  spite ; 
if  it  were  passing,  and  not  a  need  of  her  nature,  this 
vengeful  jealousy  of  an  innocent  bliss. 

"  And  did  Violet  do  you  the  honor  of  taking  you 
seriously  ?  "  he  said,  resuming  the  seat  he  had  quitted 
facing  her, — he  could  hardly  stand.  "  For  I  cannot." 

"  Ah, — you  are  a  man.  .  .  .  You  think  yourself  so 
clever,  Claude,  and  so  does  she.  There  are  no  such  fools 
as  clever  people, — I  tell  you,  I  know  it.  Honoria  has 
proved  it  too."  She  paused,  looking  wonderful.  "  Violet 
is  quite  too  awfully  superior,"  she  said  low.  "  She 
laughed, — you  know  the  way.  She  didn't  believe  a  word. 
Except  just  the  facts,  I  mean ;  of  course  she  knew  those 
were  true."  As  he  did  not  speak  at  once,  she  added, 


200  DUKE  JONES 

"  There  was  that  other  girl  before  his  marriage  he  went 
off  his  head  for, — you  remember  ?  She  did,  I  saw." 

"  You  reminded  her  of  that  ? — Ghastly !  "  he  said  be- 
neath his  breath.  "  Poor  child,  and  at  such  a  time !  Of 
course,  I  see  it  now." 

"  I  wouldn't,  if  I  had  known,"  explained  Eveleen, 
seemingly  sincere.  "  It  was  only  teasing,  because  I  can't 
always  do  with  her  airs.  It  is  such — nonsense,  really :  to 
have  airs  about  men." 

On  that  great  article  of  Eveleen's  faith  there  was  a 
pause. 

"  Listen,"  he  said,  coming  back,  for  he  had  risen  again 
and  walked  right  across  the  room.  "  I  am  trying  to  treat 
you  as  a  reasonable  being:  sometimes  I  think  you  are 
mad." 

She  laughed  again,  interrupting  him.  "  It's  too  funny," 
she  murmured,  "  you  are  so  like  her.  Violet  said  that." 

"  Then  I  am  the  surer  of  it.  ...  Listen,  if  you 
can.  That  boy  Charles  worships  the  ground  she  walks 
on, — as  you  were  never  worshiped  in  your  life.  You 
have  never  known  what  it  is  to  be  loved  for  your  mind, — 
you  have  not  asked  for  it.  Violet  is  pretty  and  enchant- 
ing  "  she  winced, — "  Oh  yes,  you  know  quite  well 

she  is;  and  he  loves  that  as  we  all  do,  we  other  men, 
Eveleen, — he  is  a  man  like  us.  But  her  mind,  which  he 
has  only  recently  come  to  realize,  he  adores :  her  thoughts, 
interpretations,  creations, — for  she  can  create.  Did  you 
see  him  while  he  listened  to  her  music,  the  other  night? 
I  suspect  you  did  not,  since  you  are  so — basely  blind." 
He  stopped,  almost  voiceless :  yet  it  was  grateful  to  him, 
a  solace,  to  speak  out  all  his  thoughts  for  once.  "  It 
is  only  jealousy,"  he  resumed,  "  and  that  is  a  disease.  I 
bear  with  diseases  I  cannot  cure,  I  have  to:  and  Violet 
must.  She  is  patient,  heaven  knows.  She  said  nothing 
of  your  cruelty,  when  I  held  her,  sick  and  shaken,  this 
morning, — except  that  you  had  given  her  hideous  dreams. 
.  .  .  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  tell  you  one  more  thing, 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  201 

which  you  as  a  woman  should  not  need  to  hear.  She  is 
creating  now,  these  next  months, — making  a  life.  And 
for  that,  mind  as  well  as  body  is  necessary 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Eveleen.  "  I  created  her."  To  this 
disconcerting  subtlety  she  added, — "  I  dare  say  you  will 
say  you  did.  You  needn't  talk  so  finely,  Claude.  Of 
course  I  know  all  that.  I've  been  through  it,  haven't  I? 
You  talk  too  much." 

She  was  fighting  splendidly,  he  could  not  but  admit; 
rising  to  his  level,  carelessly,  as  he  rose.  Once  more  he 
admired,  bethought  himself,  and  turned.  He  had  the 
humility  that  is  said  to  be  the  highest  quality  of  intellect : 
the  quality  which,  at  least,  since  it  implies  suppleness,  wins 
the  great  intellectual  battles. 

"  I  believe  I  am  a  fool  to  use  such  arguments,"  he  said. 
"  An  emotional  fool,  doubtless, — you  are  right.  It  is 
simpler  just  to  forbid  you  to  go  there.  I  believe,  as  a  phy- 
sician, I  can  do  that." 

"  You  aren't  hers ;  you  said  so,"  remarked  Eveleen. 
"  And  I'm  her  mother.  I  could  go  to-day  if  I  wanted  to, 
but  I  don't  pai  cicularly.  I  dare  say  you  are  right;  she 
had  better  be  quiet.  And  I  hate  Honoria,"  she  appended. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  picking  truth  from  its  disguises.  "  And 
you  have  given  Honoria  reason  to  hate  you,  have  you 
not?" 

"  Violet's  been  talking,"  said  Eveleen,  slightly  recoiling, 
— paling  as  slightly. 

"  Are  you  really  not  aware,"  he  returned,  approaching, 
"  that  you  have  told  me  ?  "  She  looked  at  him  quite 
blankly.  "  Aren't  you  at  all  aware  what  you  have  told  ?  " 

"  What  have  I  told  ?  "  she  said,  frightened.  It  was  clear, 
at  least,  that  she  had  dreaded  his  knowledge. 

"  Bah !  "  He  snapped  his  fingers.  "  Couldn't  I  argue, 
if  I  chose,  from  your  senseless  tormenting  of  one  girl  you 
would  be  capable  of  brutality  to  another?  If  Charles 
knew  she  was  at  the  Langham,  would  not  Violet  have 
learnt  of  her  flight  ?  Would  not  both  have  done  all  they 


202  DUKE  JONES 

knew?  Where  would  they  have  turned?  Why  should 
I  hear  nothing?  Why,  at  the  very  name,  should  that  child 
look  ill  and  drawn  as  I  saw  her  to-day?  My  theory  of 
our  children,"  he  repeated,  "  is  not  the  same  as  yours. 
My  theory  of  the  man  is — what  I  said.  The  girl,  in  all 
modesty,  is  myself.  They  are  nobly  happy  together.  I 
diagnosed  it " — he  looked  at  her  oddly, — "  in  your  pres- 
ence, that  first  night,  as  something  higher  than  health. 
But  they  are  healthy  " — he  struck  his  foot  down, — "  and 
shall  remain  so,  in  spite  of  you.  I  worship  health,  Eve- 
leen:  it  is  my  god,  for  this  life.  I  may  find  a  better  in 
the  next,  but  such  as  I  regard  it,  it  is  a  god.  Well, 
healthy  happiness,  as  I  regard  it,  is  progressive,  not  shut 
in  itself.  It  gives  just  in  proportion  as  it  receives.  I 
am  lecturing  you,  and  I  beg  your  pardon,  for  you  can 
know  nothing  of  it.  But  the  fact  remains,  for  our  pres- 
ent purpose,  that  I  assume, — cheerfully  assume  on  that 
ground  if  no  other, — that  they  did  their  utmost  for  that 
poor  child.  And  I  assume,  by  that  same  reasoning,  that 
you  did  not.  You  are  unprogressive,  unprofitable, — un- 
healthy to  my  mind.  You  had  better  take  remedies,  and 
soon.  I  warn  you.  I  am  fit  to  warn." 

He  faced  her,  his  whole  brilliant  presence  challenging, 
— holding,  as  his  daughter  had  done  on  a  like  occasion,  his 
sword.  But  it  was  the  other  sword  of  science,  the  one 
he  had  sharpened  by  a  life's  devotion.  Right  through  the 
rapid  speech,  Claude  had  laid  the  smaller  weapon  of  his 
wit  aside.  Curiously  enough,  she  seemed  to  feel  the  con- 
viction more  keenly  for  the  lack  of  wit :  it  may  have  been 
another  greatness  in  her. 

"  I  have  never  seen  you  like  this,"  she  murmured. 

"  Ah, — no,  for  I  have  never  doctored  you.  Even  when 
you  were — as  Violet,  I  never  did.  Did  I  ?  I  dared  not. 
Strange ! "  He  stopped  with  a  smile  from  which  she 
shrank  still  more.  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  doctor  you,  Eve- 
leen?  Have  you  the  smallest  desire  for  health,  I  won- 
der? That  health?" 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  203 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  are  so  horrid,  Claude, — talking 
of  health!  I  am  quite  well,  I'm  sure."  Her  beautiful 
lips  quivered  as  he  watched  her.  "  Don't  I  look  it?  " 

"Not  afraid?  Not  of  anything?"  He  pressed  her, 
still  smiling  keenly.  "  No  feeling — here?  " 

"  No !  "  Then  her  lips  broke  their  line,  and  suddenly 
laying  her  head  in  her  hands,  she  wept.  "  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  talk  like  that,"  she  sobbed.  "  You  oughtn't  to, 
—to  me." 

"  Touche!"  he  said  to  himself,  as  a  fencer  does;  and 
turned,  light  as  a  fencer,  on  his  heel  to  leave  the  room. 

He  had  made  Eveleen  cry,  that  was  something.  Medic- 
ally, it  was  a  spark,  a  remnant  of  life  to  work  on.  It  is 
very  hopeless  work  to  reason  with  such  as  she,  but  it  is 
just  worth  reasoning;  at  least  Claude,  who  was  reputed 
to  be  persistently  obstinate  in  desperate  cases  always, 
thought  it  was:  and  he  had,  in  such  cases,  snatched  a 
life  or  two. 

But  leaving  her,  he  laughed  at  himself:  realizing  the 
futility  of  such  efforts,  feeling  the  strain  of  the  interview 
recoil,  and  the  genuine  horror  he  had  resisted,  return. 
He  had  been  out  of  himself,  Eveleen  was  right.  He 
knew  very  well  he  was  excited,  childishly  excited,  to- 
day :  and  he  very  well  knew  why.  It  was  as  a  "  mere 
mother  "  possibly ;  for  the  healers  of  the  world  may  be 
allowed  to  claim  something  of  the  maternal  triumph, 
since  they  share  it. 


Violet  made  Charles  promise  to  say  nothing  of  what 
she  called  the  "  circumstances  "  to  Honoria.  Charles 
did  not  see  the  point  himself,  since  he  wished  to  publish 
the  glorious  circumstance  to  all  the  world;  but  since 
Violet  was  henceforth  to  be  humored  in  her  smallest 
whim,  kept  under  a  glass  shade,  and  there  worshiped  at 
intervals, — he  promised.  But  her  next  delicately  ex- 
pressed desire,  that  he  should  "  behave," — that  they 


204  DUKE  JONES 

should  comport  themselves  as  a  really  ancient  married 
couple,  in  Miss  Addenbroke's  stately  presence, — made 
him  laugh. 

"  Shan't,"  he  said  lightly.    "  You  can." 

"  It  takes  two  to  do  it,"  reasoned  Violet.  "  No,  don't 
be  foolish.  Listen,  I  will  try  to  explain.  You  ought  to 
see  without  explanation.  But  for — Lisette,  Honoria 
might  herself  have  been  married  now.  Well — you 
understand  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Charles,  in  his  cheerfully  disobliging  man- 
ner,— as  though  the  word  had  been  "  yes." 

He  was  "  tiresome  "  evidently,  and  Violet  sighed.  She 
was  so  anxious  to  have  things  nice  for  Honoria:  and 
Charles  could  be  nice,  when  he  chose.  She  said  no  more 
for  the  time.  Presently  he  came  to  her  repentant,  said 
he  had  been  thinking  it  over,  and  he  saw  the  point.  He 
would  treat  the  lady  as  a  new-made  widow,  with  care. 
By  his  subsequent  remarks,  Violet  much  feared  he  was 
still  thinking  of  Lisette's  wicked  caricature  of  Honoria's 
suitor  in  the  train ;  but  the  general  result  was  better  than 
nothing,  so  she  let  him  be,  trusting  that  Honoria's  awe- 
inspiring  personality  would  do  the  rest. 

So,  for  a  time,  it  did.  Miss  Addenbroke  was  tall  and 
broad,  and  deep  of  voice,  and  that  goes  for  something. 
Charles  showed  himself,  as  his  wife  had  expected,  a 
capital  host,  and  both  he  and  the  household  rose  in  style 
to  the  advent  of  the  first  visitor.  No  other  had  yet  slept 
beneath  their  roof,  and  the  guest's  room  on  the  highest 
floor  was  but  lately  finished.  Violet,  seeming  more  fragile 
than  usual  beside  her  burly  cousin,  escorted  Honoria  to 
her  room,  and  made  excuses  for  such  finishing  touches 
as  were  lacking  to  it. 

"  When  shall  I  see  Cousin  Eveleen  ?  "  said  Honoria, 
taking  off  her  gloves,  having  glanced  once  round  without 
remark. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  soon,"  said  Violet. 

Honoria's  manner  was  condescending,  as  though  she 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  205 

spoke  to  a  schoolgirl  who  was  merely  acting  proxy  for 
her  natural  hostess.  She  thought  little  of  her  quarters, 
evidently,  and  Violet  felt  small.  She  knew  well  she  had 
never  been  loved  by  Honoria,  who,  though  she  admitted 
no  rivalry  with  such  a  paltry,  home-bred  product  as  the 
"  Ashwin  child  "  seven  or  eight  years  her  junior,  had  been 
somewhat  pricked,  nevertheless,  by  her  readiness  and  wit, 
when  she  first  stayed  in  her  father's  house.  Honoria  had 
classed  her  on  that  occasion  as  a  conceited  little  girl,  and 
still  preserved  the  attitude. 

"Would  you  like  to  rest?"  said  Violet.  "Dinner  is 
at  eight." 

The  question  semed  to  be  an  offense.  She  had  asked  it, 
since  it  was  public  property  that  Honoria  had  been  enjoy- 
ing a  "  breakdown  "  in  health  for  several  months :  in- 
deed, ever  since  her  sister's  disappearance.  It  is  true, 
there  are  many  possible  interpretations  of  a  "break- 
down,"— more  every  year;  still,  so  far  as  it  went,  it  had 
been  regarded  as  creditable  by  the  Ingestres.  However, 
whatever  may  be  the  full  philosophy  of  breakdowns, 
Honoria  had  evidently  morally  conquered  hers;  and  her 
remarks  on  the  subject  made  her  cousin,  who  had  re- 
mained tired  since  the  morning,  feel  smaller  yet. 

Honoria  Addenbroke  was  not  a  pleasant  person:  of 
some  characters,  after  all,  it  had  better  be  confessed.  In- 
numerable people  had  tried  to  like  her,  and  failed.  She 
had  all  the  Ingestre  faults,  with  none  of  their  virtues — 
and  they  had  very  striking  virtues,  as  we  have  striven 
to  show ;  all  their  assumption,  with  none  of  their  charm ; 
and  some  added  roughness  that  was  probably  an  Adden- 
broke heritage.  She  could  hardly  speak  without  tram- 
pling, deliberately,  on  people's  corns.  Her  claims  to 
intellect  consisted  almost  exclusively  of  that  singular 
mathematical  bent,  which  is  a  special  genius,  like  the 
musical, — like  music,  approaches  to  mania  sometimes, — 
and  like  music,  seems  to  be  independent  of  either  char- 
acter, or  of  real  dignity  or  agility  of  thought.  She  had 


206  DUKE  JONES 

no  delicacy,  and  gloried  in  it:  not  like  her  little  sister, 
from  idle  mischief,  but  from  a  genuine  love  of  seeing 
her  fellow-creatures  wince,  which  implies  self-indulgence, 
and  inclines  to  cruelty  at  the  worst.  Last,  she  had  the 
extra  hardness  which  lifelong  unpopularity  imparts, — 
since  it  is  too  true  that  from  him  who  has  not,  is  taken, 
in  life, — and  owned  no  real  friends,  unless  one  counted 
a  few  hunting-men,  who  admired  her  "  form."  Natu- 
rally, she  had  consorted  with  them  largely,  which  fact  had 
not  improved  her  drawing-room  style.  She  despised 
drawing-rooms, — as  Mrs.  Shovell  learnt  to  her  cost, — 
extolled  "  nature,"  and  "  natural  methods,"  and  her  age 
was  twenty-nine.  It  is  really  quite  unnecessary  to  refine 
further  on  the  character  of  the  lady  whose  "  muzzling," 
under  peculiarly  difficult  circumstances,  Violet  had  under- 
taken. 

All  the  same,  Violet  was  convinced  she  would,  sooner 
or  later,  have  been  able  to  manage  Honoria, — had  it  not 
been  for  Charles.  She  dressed  for  dinner  in  black,  out 
of  consideration  for  her  guest:  her  afternoon  robe  of 
black  velvet,  since  Violet  did  not  wear  what  she  called 
"  cold  black  "  very  willingly.  The  "  warm  black  "  of 
velvet  suited  her  clear  complexion  and  dark  hair  par- 
ticularly well,  though  she  had  a  strong  idea  the  less  be- 
coming choice  would  have  been  more  sympathetic  towards 
Honoria.  She  argued  this  delicate  point  with  Charles 
while  she  was  dressing :  and  Charles,  who  looked  his  own 
best  in  "  cold  black,"  but  disliked  it  profoundly  for  her, 
considered  that  he  scored.  He  had  very  strong  and 
rather  singular  ideas  about  Violet's  clothes,  and  she  oc- 
casionally deferred  to  them  experimentally.  However, 
to-night  his  frivolous  and  heartless  suggestion  that  she 
should  wear  her  wedding-dress  showed  that  his  opinion 
was  not  for  the  moment  worth  regarding,  and  should 
have  prepared  her  for  what  was  to  come.  Yet,  where  a 
girl  like  Honoria  is  concerned,  one  cannot  possibly  be 
prepared  for  everything. 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  207 

Honoria  had  arrived  at  the  house  in  black;  but  that 
proved  by  subsequent  events  to  be  misleading.  She 
appeared  at  dinner  in  emerald  green,  flashing  with  irides- 
cent trimmings,  cut  very  low.  She  really  looked  well  in 
a  certain  style,  for,  like  all  Ingestre  offshoots,  she  was 
well-built,  with  a  beautiful  skin.  But  she  startled 
Annette,  Violet's  small  Swiss  maid,  almost  into  dropping 
the  sauce ;  and  she  clashed  with  Dr.  Ashwin's  benevolent 
scheme  of  color  in  the  dining-room  so  painfully  that 
Charles  feared  indigestion  might  eventuate, — to  others, 
fortunately,  not  Honoria, — all  the  same. 

For  a  time  he  tried  not  to  look  at  her,  and  looked  at 
Violet.  Then  having,  as  we  have  said,  conducted  him- 
self as  an  able  host,  with  most  elegant  propriety,  for  half 
the  meal,  the  full  possibilities  of  Honoria  seemed  to  break 
upon  his  consciousness  as  by  a  light  from  heaven.  She 
was  vain,  it  dawned  upon  Charles,  without  being  attract- 
ive :  an  opportunity  almost  irresistible  to  a  man  of  parts, 
and  personal  advantages  as  well.  He  resisted  virtuously 
for  a  time,  being  reminded  by  Violet's  pale  and  pensive 
appearance  that  abstract  "  behavior  "  was  desirable ;  but 
she  refused  to  catch  his  eye  even  after  his  best  answers 
to  the  Wrangler,  which  piqued  him;  so,  just  about  the 
cheese  course,  he  abandoned  the  effort,  and  began  to  look 
instead,  far  too  engagingly,  in  the  direction  of  the  lady- 
guest. 

Honoria,  at  the  time,  was  telling  him  about  Cam- 
bridge :  and  it  struck  Charles,  in  a  new  flash  of  enlighten- 
ment, that  she  thought  he  was  an  Oxford  man.  If 
Honoria  did  think  so,  she  shortly  became  convinced  of  it, 
because  Charles  was  intensely  curious  to  learn  all  about 
Cambridge  manners  from  Miss  Addenbroke.  They  were 
such  remarkable  manners,  it  appeared,  in  many  ways, 
that  he  rather  wondered  what  the  Newnham  authorities 
had  been  about,  in  Honoria's  time :  he  was  only  thankful 
that  time  was  past ;  for  Charles  liked  the  modern  college 
girl,  and  had  known  a  number  of  her,  intimately. 


208  DUKE  JONES 

Violet,  on  the  noble  understanding  as  to  nonsense  which 
they  shared,  which  they  had  practiced  almost  from  the 
first  meeting,  and  which  was  one  of  the  foundation- 
stones  of  their  love  and  confidence,  did  not  give  him 
away,  though  she  took  every  other  liberty  their  mutual 
convention  allowed  her  of  snubbing  him,  dodging  him, 
and  diverting  his  victim's  attention.  She  failed  miserably. 
Honoria  flatly  ignored  her:  her  rather  protruding  eyes 
were  fixed  on  Charles,  and  that  gentleman,  summoning 
all  his  graces  to  his  aid,  made  a  dead  set  at  her,  and 
before  the  close  of  the  meal  conquered  her  completely. 
Memories,  no  doubt,  of  Lisette's  graceless  skit  upon  the 
other  man  came  to  Mr.  Shovell's  assistance.  He  could 
not  but  think,  if  he  gave  his  serious  mind  to  it,  he  could 
cut  out  that  bandy-legged  bounder  somehow;  though  he 
hardly  hoped  for  such  prompt  conquest  as  was  actually 
his. 

Violet  was  in  despair:  for  every  minute,  as  his  ab- 
surdities increased,  she  thought  Honoria  must  see  through 
him,  and  the  fury  she  dreaded  break  upon  them  both. 
She  cut  the  dessert-period  short,  by  Miss  Addenbroke's 
reckoning,  much  too  soon,  rising  before  the  guest  had 
drained  her  wine.  While  she  paused  to  let  Honoria  pass 
in  front  of  her,  Charles,  who  was  holding  the  door  for 
them,  paid  simultaneously  a  flagrant  compliment  to 
Honoria's  dinner-gown,  and  pinched  Violet's  neck.  But 
she  was  really  too  displeased  to  look  at  him.  His  be- 
havior was  most  unfeeling,  considering  Honoria's  situa- 
tion, and  his  real  inability  to  console  her.  If  Charles 
had  been  able  to  console  Honoria,  it  would,  of  course, 
have  been  different.  If  Violet  had  known  she  was  open 
to  consolation  she  would  naturally  have  asked  another 
man.  As  the  circumstances  stood,  she  held  her  velvet 
skirts  with  care  from  Charles,  and  passed  in  abstraction 
in  Honoria's  ample  wake. 

"  What  a  delightful  boy  Charles  is,"  said  Honoria, 
lying  down  upon  the  sofa,  which  had  been  conveniently 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  209 

placed  sidelong  to  the  fire,  that  same  morning,  by  Sir 
Claude  Ashwin,  for  his  daughter's  benefit.  It  seemed 
Honoria  felt  more  friendly  to  her  late  breakdown  after 
dinner  than  before, — she  had,  like  Lisette,  a  fine  appe- 
tite,— for  she  proceeded  to  close  her  eyes  against  the 
lamplight  with  a  pained  expression. 

Violet,  seeing  no  possible  answer  to  the  remark, — un- 
less to  thank  her  for  not  saying  Charlie, — made  none. 
She  moved  the  lamp  away  from  Honoria's  eyes,  and 
sitting  down  near  it,  prepared  to  make  the  coffee,  a  duty 
she  kept  in  her  own  hands,  since  she  had  done  so  at  home. 
Charles  was  by  no  means  as  particular  as  his  father- 
in-law,  but  that  made  no  difference  to  an  Ashwin,  granted 
the  ideal  once  rooted  in  her  mind.  So  she  made  ideal 
coffee  daily,  and  the  occasional  guest  approved.  She  lit 
the  little  copper  lamp,  and  while  it  boiled,  purring  gently, 
took  up  the  minute  piece  of  needlework  she  had  laid 
aside  on  Honoria's  arrival.  Her  back  was  half-turned, 
and  a  mere  look  at  Honoria's  hands  had  sufficed  to  show 
Violet  she  was  not  a  needlewoman,  and  unlikely  to  be 
curious, — so  all  was  safe. 

Honoria,  as  the  silence  grew  marked,  opened  her  eyes 
and  took  a  very  keen  survey  of  as  much  of  her  cousin 
as  she  could  see  round  the  corner.  She  could  only  per- 
ceive her  swathed  dark  hair,  the  nape  of  a  very  pretty 
neck, — unadorned,  since  even  the  pearls  were  discarded 
to-night, — and  the  occasional  glimpse  of  an  active  hand. 
Violet  had  not,  at  dinner,  appeared  happy  to  Honoria: 
rather  mopy  for  a  new-made  wife.  She  had  shown  no 
sign  of  courting  her  husband ;  far  from  it, — she  had  flown 
at  him  more  than  once;  and  her  peaceful  manipulation 
of  fine  white  materials  just  out  of  sight  from  the  sofa, 
was  probably  feigned. 

"  You  look  sweetly  domestic,"  said  Honoria.  "  Would 
it  be  too  awful  to  smoke  ?  " 

"  Please,"  said  Violet.  "  We  always  do.  Only  won't 
you  wait  for  coffee  first  ?  " 


210  DUKE  JONES 

"  Oh,  I  never  take  it  till  later,"  said  Honoria.  "  Old 
college  trick — Aunt  has  learnt  my  ways.  I  burn  the  mid- 
night oil,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Shovell  blew  out  her  little  copper  lamp  at  once, 
and  recurred  to  her  sewing.  "  You  have  been  able  to  get 
on  with  your  book,  then  ?  "  she  queried.  "  I  am  so  glad." 
Honoria  had  been  writing  a  book  about  something  quite 
beyond  everybody,  for  years.  Connections  inquired  after 
it  at  intervals,  fearfully. 

"  Don't  you  take  coffee  ?  "  said  Honoria :  who  did  not 
intend  to  discuss  her  book  with  a  "  kid."  The  girl  shook 
her  head. 

"  I  must  live  on  the  savors  at  present,  Father  says. 
Charles  will  clamor  for  some  presently,  though.  Per- 
haps you  will  have  a  cup  with  him." 

Honoria,  elaborately  smoking,  did  not  reply,  or  thank 
her.  That  may  also  have  been  a  college  trick,  of  course. 
"  I  suppose,"  she  said  pleasantly,  "  you  have  been  dosed 
and  dieted  all  your  life,  haven't  you,  Violet?  You  look 
it." 

"Do  I?    In  what  way?" 

"  Washed  out  and  jumpy.  What  Felicia  called  a  dying- 
duckish  expression." 

Violet  blushed  deeply,  not  at  the  personality,  and  her 
hands  dropped  suddenly  in  her  lap.  Miss  Addenbroke, 
still  spying  at  her,  saw  it  and  laughed. 

"  You  think  me  heartless,  don't  you,  my  dear,"  she 
said.  "  And  soulless  too,  I  shouldn't  wonder.  But  per- 
sonally, I  should  warn  you,  I  have  no  religion.  I  can't 
pray  over  Felicia,  like  Aunt.  It's  foreign  to  my  nature. 
I  prefer  to  face  the  facts,  and  to  regard  it  as  the  fate  of 
personality.  Everyone  to  the  life  that  suits  them,  is  what 
I  say, — not  to  Aunt,  of  course,  she  can't  stand  it.  I  own 
Felicia,  though  a  fool,  was  a  perfectly  consistent  one.  I 
saw  that  clearly  as  soon  as  I  came  to  think  it  out.  Her 
ideal  was  always  a  bit  divergent  from  mine,  that's  all.  It 
needed  testing  a  little  by  intellectual  standards, — which  she 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  211 

hadn't  got.  But  she  did  the  best  she  knew,"  added  Hon- 
oria,  weightily  pondering. 

"  You  talk  as  though  she  did  not  suffer,"  said  Violet. 

"  She  would  not  suffer  long,"  said  Honoria  calmly.  "  I 
know  it  sounds  bad,  to  finicky  people, — but  I  happened  to 
know  Felicia.  I  thought  the  whole  thing  out  during  that 
awful  period  of  mental  strain  I  had.  One  must  be  philo- 
sophical about  such  things:  no  other  course  is  open. 
Felicia  could  not  suffer  long." 

"  You  mean  she  would  die  ?  "  said  Violet. 

"  No,  I  don't,  my  dear  little  bit  of  sentiment.  That  is 
a  very  old-world  view." 

"  As  old  as  Goldsmith,  I  know.  If  yours  is  the  newest, 
I  prefer  his." 

"  Don't  interrupt  me,"  said  Honoria.  "  Felicia  had  not 
the  moral  force,  nor  the  mental,  to  suffer  really.  She  did 
not  know  what  suffering  was.  She  simply  followed  her 
instincts,  worked  out  her  nature,  fulfilled  herself,  in 
short.  That  is  right,  by  the  modern  standards.  Her  life 
with  us  was  the  unnatural  one,  I  mean.  She  is  probably, 
at  this  minute,  far  less  miserable  than  sentimentalists  like 
Aunt  are  in  her  interest, — and  not  ashamed  at  all.  .  .  . 
There  are  moments  when  I  envy  her,"  said  Miss  Adden- 
broke:  and  Violet,  by  a  tell-tale  drop  in  her  tone,  sus- 
pected it  was  true. 

"  And  her  letters — her  letter  to  you  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Oh,  that, "  the  lecturer  had  just  winced  in  the 

pause, — "  written  in  a  fury,  at  red-heat.  Her  temper  was 
vile,  of  course.  Only  I,  probably,  knew  what  it  could  be. 
When  she  lost  it,  she  cursed  like  a  bargee, — give  you  my 
word.  She  wasn't  quite  as  pretty  as  she  looked,  Felicia. 
.  .  .  Not  to  mention  she  had  no  idea  of  wording 
things,"  the  author  added  contemptuously.  "  She  wrote 
like  a  baby.  You  could  never  go  by  her  letters,  what  she 
thought." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Violet,  just  as  she  would  have 
spoken  again, — "  I  must  ask  you  to  hold  your  tongue." 


212  DUKE  JONES 

"  What's  that  ?  "  rapped  Honoria.  "  Talking  down  to 
me?  " 

"  It's  simply  I  am  not — able  to  bear  it.  I  dare  say  it  is 
all  very  true, — and  beautifully  modern.  .  .  .  Will 
your  book  be  published  soon  ?  " 

Whereat  Miss  Addenbroke,  rising  a  little,  by  the  aid 
of  her  elbows,  on  the  sofa,  said  what  she  thought  of  Violet, 
her  mother  and  Lisette. 

When  Charles  came  in,  Honoria,  in  a  luxurious  attitude, 
with  cigarette  ashes  freely  strewn  about,  was  lounging 
with  a  book.  She  looked  somehow  as  though  she  had  had 
a  field-day ;  which  was  the  fact.  Violet  had  brought  the 
light  back  to  her,  and  was  seated  herself  in  her  old  posi- 
tion, without  the  lamp's  illuminated  ring.  Charles  ex- 
changed a  few  bright  nothings  with  the  guest,  and  made 
her  laugh  rather  loudly;  and  then,  since  Violet  did  not 
turn,  nor  move  to  serve  him,  though  the  coffee  boiled,  he 
walked  up  to  her,  still  chaffing  Honoria,  and  from  behind, 
laid  his  hands  to  either  side  her  face. 

"  Might  a  fellow  have  some  coffee,  missus  ?  "  he  re- 
quested. "  It  smells  so  nice."  Violet  served  him  mechan- 
ically, passing  the  cups  in  turn  across  her  shoulder, 
without  changing  her  position  otherwise. 

"  Two  ?  "  queried  Charles.  "  Hasn't  Miss  Addenbroke 
been  regaled  ?  " 

"  I'll  take  it  later  on,  thanks,"  said  that  lady  calmly. 

"  Then  I  must  drink  'em  both,"  remarked  Charles,  of 
the  two  little  cups.  "  She's  been  cut  off  by  her  Pa." 

He  stood,  holding  both  cups,  on  the  hearth  for  a  min- 
ute, admired  by  Honoria,  as  was  evident.  Charles  had 
no  objection  at  all  to  being  admired,  though  the  Wrangler 
seemed  an  ungainly  object  to  his  passing  glance.  He 
stood,  as  though  for  his  portrait,  before  her.  Then,  look- 
ing beyond,  he  saw  Violet  move  her  hand,  saw  it  clench 
on  the  tray  beside  her,  and  her  head  sink.  He  put  the 
cups  down  hastily. 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  213 

"  My  blessing,  what  is  it  ?  "  He  was  behind  her,  using 
a  voice  Honoria  had  not  heard.  "Cold  hands?"  His 
warm  one  was  over  it.  "  Faint,  are  you  ?  "  He  was 
kneeling  beside  her.  "  Tell  me — did  I  vex  you  at  dinner  ? 
I  was  only  fooling — she  understands."  She  was  in  his 
arms  completely,  her  dark  head  close  to  his, — but  languid 
utterly :  she  did  not  move.  Honoria  stared,  her  cigarette 
suspended,  and  its  ashes  dropping  on  the  couch. 

"  She  won't  speak,"  said  Charles,  after  a  pause.  "  What 
happened  ?  What  did  you  say  to  her  ?  "  He  flashed  blue 
lightning  round  the  corner  at  the  guest.  "  Oh,  I'll  have 
no  more  to  do  with  your  horrible  family,"  he  muttered, 
rising.  "  You'll  kill  her  among  you, — won't  be  satisfied 
till  you  do.  Get  up !  " 

Honoria  the  Wrangler  rose  hastily.  He  threw  the 
cushions  she  had  crushed  into  place  with  a  practiced 
hand,  careless  temper  in  every  gesture.  He  was  really 
more  than  ever  attractive  to  the  eye,  though  he  was  not 
thinking  of  it  now. 

"  Don't  touch  her,"  he  said  fiercely,  turning.  "  Keep 
off!  Do  you  hear?  You've  done  enough  for  one 
evening." 

"  I've  done  nothing,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Honoria. 
"  She's  been  bred  too  soft." 

"  Well,  it's  something  to  have  been  bred  at  all,"  mut- 
tered Charles.  The  remark  hardly  reached  Honoria,  but 
Violet  stirred. 

"  Don't,"  she  murmured,  as  he  reached  her.  "  She'll — 
do  it  again." 

"  She  won't, — she'll  get  no  chance.  Come  along."  He 
practically  lifted  her  with  his  arm. 

"  I'll  go  up,  it's  best,"  the  girl  said,  wincing  visibly  from 
the  fuller  light.  "  Head  aching  rather, — I  am  sorry, 
Honoria.  Please  go  back,  he  should  not  have  disturbed 
you, — if  I  had  thought." 

"  I  couldn't  stop  her,"  she  explained  wearily  to  Charles 


214  DUKE  JONES 

upstairs.  "  She  has  been  saving  it  up  for  months,  prob- 
ably. I  said  a  thing  that  annoyed  her,  rashly,  so  she  let 
loose  before  the  time.  Not  having  Mother,  she  talked 
to  me.  I  doubt  if  before  she  had  thought  I  was — worthy 
of  it." 

"Didn't  you  talk,  Violet?" 

"  I  couldn't,  somehow,  to-night.  I  only  thought  things, 
eloquently.  I  interrupted  her  about  twice,  I  think.  She 
said  I  had  not  been  sufficiently  slapped  in  the  nursery,  or 
I  should  know  how  to  speak  to  my  elders.  Something  like 
that.  She  had  offered  to  do  the  same  kind  office  by  Lisette 
too,  I  gathered,  before  she  left.  It  is  the  schoolmistress  in 
her,  above  all,"  said  Violet,  gathering  force,  "  I  can't  bear, 
because  I  respect  the  profession.  If  she  had  taught  me,  I 
certainly  should  have  made  faces  at  her,  all  the  time. 
Lisette  probably  did — sweet  faces.  .  .  .  Oh,  Lisette 
shines  in  comparison,  Charles, — a  star,  a  flower.  It  was — 
it  is — an  infinitely  sweeter  nature,  healthier  too.  Not 
simpler,  because  Honoria  is  simple;  she  only  learnt  too 
much  at  college, — much  too  much.  Mother  is  refined  com- 
pared with  Honoria,  for  Mother  is  vulgar  only  when  she 
wants  to  be.  Mother  is  a  queen,  born  and  trained  to  rul- 
ing. Her  manner  quite  often  excuses  the  things  she 
says.  Honoria  rules  by  violence, — it  is  the  scullion-na- 
ture,— no,  no,  scullions  clean  things," — she  put  her  hand 
to  her  head, — "  the  scavenger's.  I  believe  they  clean 
things  too,  and  if  so  I  beg  their  pardons.  I  have  lost  all 
my  words  to-night." 

She  rested  against  him  for  some  minutes  silently,  one 
delicate  hand  still  to  her  brow,  the  other  in  his  possession. 

"  Will  you  sleep,  love  ?  "  said  Charles. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  think  so :  presently.  You  must  go  down, — 
master  of  the  house,  you  know.  Make  my  apologies — 
with  the  necessary  negligence.  One  of  my  headaches  will 
do.  I  was  always  so  proud  of  not  having  the  thing,  but 
I  let  myself  in,  didn't  I  ?  "  She  put  her  arms  suddenly 
round  his  neck.  "  Be  nice  to  her,  dear.  She  has  suffered 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  215 

really, — you  can  tell.  She  must  have  been  through  a 
terrible  time,  and  that  embitters  people.  Will  you  ?  " 

"  It's  not  necessary  to  kiss  me,  you  know,"  said  Charles, 
"  for  me  to  do  all  you  want." 

"  I  won't  then,"  she  laughed.  "  I  hate  waste  in  a  house." 
But  he  had  felt  her  soft  lips  all  the  same. 

"  I  didn't  know  this  was  a  doll's  house,"  said  Honoria, 
in  a  marvelously  unpleasant  tone.  She  was  again  on  the 
sofa,  of  course,  though  in  a  slightly  better  attitude. 

Charles,  who  read  his  classics,  got  all  the  way.  "  I 
must  make  her  excuses,  Miss  Addenbroke,"  he  said,  his 
back  turned  to  her,  and  his  hands  clenching  the  chimney- 
shelf.  "  She  is  not  extra  well  just  now,  and  Sir  Claude 
has  warned  us  to  be  careful.  Perhaps  she  did  not  tell 
you ;  he  was  here  all  the  morning." 

"  Oh,  do  you  know,"  said  Honoria  in  confidence,  "  I 
shouldn't  pay  too  much  attention  to  that.  He  always 
spoiled  her, — an  only  lamb,  you  know.  I  noticed  how  she 
was  coddled  that  time  I  stayed  in  the  house.  If  Violet  was 
left  alone  a  bit,  she  would  probably  get  all  right." 

Charles  could  not  resist.  "  She  will  get  all  right  after 
next  May,  the  doctor  gives  us  reason  to  hope,"  he  dryly 
observed. 

"  May?"  Honoria  gaped  for  some  instants.  "Oh, — 
what  a  way  to  tell  me,"  she  said,  rather  offended. 

"  I  was  forbidden  to  tell  you  at  all.  I  respect  the  letter 
of  the  law,  that's  all." 

"  Oh,"  said  Honoria.  "  Forbidden,  were  you  ?  Why 
didn't  she  want  me  to  know  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  because  she  imagined  it  might  pain  you. 
That  is  her  reason,  usually." 

"  What  fussy  futility,"  said  Honoria,  reddening.  She 
added — "  And  how  characteristic." 

"  Isn't  it  ?  "  said  Charles  heartily.  Violet  had  told  him 
to  be  polite,  so  he  was,  whenever  Honoria  gave  him  the 
opportunity.  He  turned  round  soon,  looking  charming,  a 
thing  he  could  do  with  ease. 

"  Is  it  time  for  your  coffee  now  ?  "  he  asked,  alluding 


216  DUKE  JONES 

to  it  like  a  prescribed  draught  on  purpose.  "  I  think  I 
can  tackle  that  machine.  If  I  make  a  mess  of  it,  don't  be 
too  hard  on  me." 

"You  could  heat  up  the  cold,"  remarked  Honoria, 
watching  his  proceedings  at  the  coffee-tray.  "  That  would 
earn  the  wife's  approval  best." 

Charles  just  refrained  from  throwing  a  cup  at  her, 
because  the  little  cups  were  valuable.  No  other  reason 
deterred  him. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  he  said  blithely.  "  I'm  a  bit  of  an 
economist,  but  I  shouldn't  venture  to  do  that."  He  had  set 
the  thing  alight  again,  quite  cleverly,  Honoria  noticed. 
Personally,  she  was  one  of  the  hopelessly  awkward 
women,  who  barely  know  how  to  hold  a  thing,  still  less 
to  handle  it. 

"  I've  burnt  a  hole  in  your  sofa-cover,  I'm  afraid,"  she 
observed  after  a  period,  looking  at  her  cigarette.  "  Don't 
tell  on  me." 

"  All  right,"  said  Charles  satirically. 

"Is  she  squeamish  about  things?" 

"  Violet  ?  My  dear  Miss  Addenbroke,  it's  not  the 
word."  Nor  was  it, — being  a  word  Charles  loathed. 

"  Do  you  let  her  sit  on  you  ?  "  said  Honoria,  getting 
happier. 

"  Yes :  and  the  sofa,  when  she  will,"  said  Charles,  "  and 
can.  Ah — I  hope  that's  all  right,  not  too  strong."  He 
brought  the  cup  to  her  side. 

"  Thanks,"  said  Honoria,  since  she  could  hardly  avoid 
it.  "  I  shouldn't  have  said,  on  sight,  that  you  were  hen- 
pecked," she  added,  looking  at  his  nonchalant  bearing  with 
a  smile.  Charles,  thinking  how  he  hated  prominent  eyes, 
sat  down  before  the  fire  thoughtfully. 

"  I  have  not  had  time  to  show  the  marks,"  he  said. 
"  Haven't  been  married  long  enough,  you  know.  She's 
only  given  me  a  general  idea  of  the  sort  of  thing, — to  be 
filled  out  in  our  subsequent  numbers.  Rather  like  the 
first  lecture  of  the  October  term.  You  feel  vaguely  op- 
pressed after  a  first  lecture,  if  I  remember  right, — solemn, 


THE  INGESTRE  ATTITUDE  217 

— bored  in  advance, — ready  to  take  any  fun  that  comes 
to  forget  it."  Nothing,  not  even  Violet's  exhaustion,  could 
excuse  the  glance  Charles  cast  at  Honoria.  Charles  was 
an  actor,  unfortunately,  and  was  getting  interested  in  his 
part.  He  drank  a  cup  of  cold  coffee  cheerfully,  remarked 
that  it  was  quite  decent,  and  that  he  would  have  another 
of  the  same  sort.  He  had  an  objection  to  waste  in  a 
house,  caught  from  Violet :  and  besides,  the  coffee,  though 
cold,  was  of  her  making. 

Honoria,  meanwhile,  flattered  herself  she  was  hearing 
the  confidences  of  an  over-married  man.  His  scene  with 
the  girl,  when  she  came  to  reflect,  had  been  rather  over- 
acted. His  manner  now,  to  her  eyes  and  ears,  rang  true. 
Possibly  because  she  wished  it  so  much  to  be  so. 

"  You  are  a  ridiculous  boy,"  she  said  kindly.  The  last 
century  would  have  said  a  "  naughty  man." 

"  It's  such  a  blessing  to  be  in  uncritical  company,"  said 
Charles,  leaning  back.  "  You  can  say  what  you  like.  The 
Ashwin  level  is  pretty  lofty,  don't  you  know.  You  have 
to  watch  your  words." 

She  laughed,  gratified.  "  But  I'm  far  from  uncritical,  I 
ought  to  tell  you,"  she  remarked. 

"  Oh — don't  say  you  are  a  word-watcher  too !  "  He 
over-did  his  surprise,  with  care.  "  Then  I  must  buck  up," 
he  added  languidly.  "  How  beastly !  " 

Charles  modeled  himself,  in  thought,  upon  some  of  the 
people  Honoria  had  probably  known  at  Cambridge,  whom 
he  remembered  vaguely.  He  had  before  now  taken  them 
off.  It  was  true,  he  had  been  down  for  some  years, — but 
she  had  been  down  longer  still.  He  had  an  idea  that  the 
type  always  persisted,  and  that  he  could  still  do  it  if  he 
tried.  Considering  some  of  the  things  he  was  urged  on, 
by  Honoria's  capital  replies,  to  say,  he  was  really  rather 
glad  his  wife  was  not  there. 

Having  toned  and  fixed  this  ancient  pose,  he  colored  it 
by  degrees  with  what  he  thought  might  be  an  Oxford 
manner,  rather  decadent.  Then,  recollecting  Studley  at 
his  honeymoon  hotel,  he  tried  a  little  of  that,  mixed  in. 


218  DUKE  JONES 

The  result  was  really  immense:  and  Honoria,  so-called 
clever,  swallowed  it  whole. 

"  I  was  as  polite  as  they  make  'em !  "  he  said  later,  with 
the  most  unholy  glee,  to  Violet,  whom  he  discovered  still 
awake.  "  It's  the  stable,  really,  not  the  scullery.  She's 
the  hard-riding  variety  of  Wrangler,  ours.  My  aunt,  what 
a  brute  she  is !  "  He  walked  about  the  room.  "  She's 
frightfully  gone  on  me,  darling.  I  shall  go  on  till  she's  on 
the  edge  of  leaving,  and  then  let  her  have  it,  hot  and 
strong,  on  the  steps.  I  shall, — you  shut  your  little  head ! 
I  shall  do  it.  She  burnt  a  hole  in  the  new  covers, — blast 
her!" 

"Charles— dear!" 

"  Well,  I  did  think  at  least  the  type  knew  how  to  smoke ! 
Can't  you  give  her  a  lesson  to-morrow  ?  She  was  all  over 
ashes, — beastly.  A  black  hole, — right  in  the  middle !  " 

Charles  came  back  to  that.  He  had  a  particular  affec- 
tion for  Violet's  chintzes,  they  were  so  exactly  like  herself. 
"  And  I  couldn't  let  her  know,"  he  finished,  coming  to  a 
stand  with  passionate  accusation,  "owing  to  you!" 

He  was  more  violently  excited  than  she  had  often  seen 
him.  She  heard  him  out  without  much  comment,  still  less 
did  she  attempt  reproof.  He  had  evidently  borne  a  good 
deal,  in  her  service,  for  all  the  relief  of  comedy  by  the 
way ;  and  Honoria,  clinging  to  her  college  habits,  had  not 
released  him  till  very  late.  He  looked  worn  now,  for  all 
the  laughter  she  had  heard  below;  and  he  had  watched 
a  black  hole  for  three  hours  and  more,  and  said  nothing 
about  it. 

"  I  will  say  a  spark  from  the  fire  did  it,"  Violet  observed 
for  his  consolation.  "  Father  pushed  the  couch  too  close. 
A  wood  spark  is  respectable,  isn't  it  ? — nice  and  clean." 

But  Charles  could  not  forget  or  forgive  that  hole,  for 
weeks.  He  said  something  improper  every  time  he  caught 
sight  of  it.  The  result  was  that  Violet  had  to  lie  upon  the 
sofa  more  than  her  custom  was  to  conceal  it :  even  when 
she  assured  everybody  she  felt  quite  well  again. 


THE  TALISMAN  219 

II 
THE  TALISMAN 


MRS.  SHOVELL,  as  a  lightning-conductor,  fulfilled  her  office 
with  marked  success.  She  had  received  already  from 
either  contending  party  the  worst  of  the  vituperation,  and, 
as  she  had  trusted,  her  father's  household  was  spared  the 
storm.  Honoria  and  her  Cousin  Eveleen,  during  their 
private  interview  the  following  day,  were  terribly  and 
tranquilly  frank  with  one  another,  as  was  to  be  expected, 
but  the  worst  Violet  had  anticipated  did  not  occur.  They 
even  found  one  subject  of  sympathy,  which  may  possibly 
be  divined. 

Meteorological  conditions  in  the  interview,  to  pursue 
the  image,  were  moderating,  and,  needless  to  add  with 
Ingestres,  were  masculine.  Eveleen,  owing  to  Claude, 
whose  singular  behavior  she  had  not  yet  fathomed,  and 
who  had  succeeded  yet  once  more — he  was  always  doing 
it — in  catching  her  attention  amid  the  crowds  of  men 
jostling  in  her  path,  was  more  passive  than  her  custom. 
Honoria,  owing  to  Charles  Shovell's  agreeable  trifling  at 
breakfast,  where  they  had  again  been  tete-ci-tete,  was 
almost  sunny.  And,  by  a  happy  miracle,  as  soon  as  she 
and  her  cousin  chanced  upon  this  latter  most  interesting 
question, — they  agreed. 

Yet  we  must  do  the  pair  of  ladies  justice:  rather,  we 
must  do  Lady  Ashwin  justice,  for,  as  her  daughter  de- 
clared, she  was  by  far  the  more  important  and  interesting 
personality  of  the  two.  When  Honoria,  smiling,  told 
Eveleen  that  the  Shovell  boy  was  a  flirt,  implying  care- 
fully that  he  was  more,  Eveleen's  attitude  in  accepting  the 
suggestion  was  much  the  more  respectable  and  sincere. 
Eveleen  really  did  doubt  Charles:  she  thought  she  had 
good  reason  for  doing  so,  and  Claude's  fine  phrases  had 


220  DUKE  JONES 

had  time  to  affect  her  fundamental  conviction  but  little. 
It  took  time  and  repetition,  in  Eveleen's  case,  to  affect 
such  convictions;  also,  such  gifts  of  penetration  as  she 
possessed  all  helped  her  incredulity.  Charles  had  lost  his 
head  once  before  his  marriage,  and  if  he  were  "  that  kind," 
might  lose  it  again.  The  reports  she  had  put  together 
concerning  Lisette,  the  arch  allusions  of  Honoria,  all  fell 
into  her  conception  of  the  case,  and  fell  before  it  had  had 
time  to  be  shaken  seriously.  It  was  a  comfort  not  to  have 
to  disturb  her  conviction,  anyhow :  because  when  Eveleen 
did  evolve  and  adopt  an  idea,  all  of  her  own,  she  liked  to 
dwell  on  it  at  intervals,  unvexed  by  doubts. 

By  the  time  Honoria  had  left  her,  she  had  few  doubts 
left, — few,  that  is,  as  to  Charles'  being  "  that  sort."  She 
did  not  for  an  instant  credit  that  he  was  serious  in  admir- 
ing Honoria.  Eveleen  was  a  woman  of  sense,  and,  granted 
Charles  had  admired  Lisette,  it  was  impossible  that  he 
could  admire  Honoria,  even  idly.  He  just  played  with  any 
girl  that  came,  and  it  was  likely  to  be  hard  on  Violet,  but 
was  probably  Violet's  fault  for  talking  too  much. 

This,  we  may  point  out,  was  precisely  the  attitude  of 
her  original  letter  to  her  daughter,  the  one  that  had  so 
infuriated  Charles:  which  only  proves  once  more  Lady 
Ashwin's  remarkable  tenacity  of  the  few  ideas  she  had. 
Eveleen,  though  she  was  occasionally  amused  by  some- 
thing Violet  said, — perhaps  a  spark  of  Ingestre  cropping 
out, — had  long  been  certain  that,  especially  in  excitement, 
she  said  a  number  of  unnecessary  things.  She  was  very 
careful  to  do  the  contrary  when  Charles,  as  not  infre- 
quently, came  in  of  a  Sunday  evening  to  talk  to  her  in 
her  own  charming  little  room.  He  was  really  a  very  nice 
boy :  bright,  entertaining  and  ordinary,  and  Eveleen  liked 
him.  She  just  showed  her  sympathy  with  him,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Violet,  now  and  then.  She  had  suffered  from 
Ashwin  chatter  herself,  for  twenty-three  years  now,  very 
nearly,  so  she  knew.  And  Charles,  who  liked  Lady  Ash- 
win  in  the  life  considerably  better  than  in  her  letters, 


THE  TALISMAN  221 

gave  her  no  reason  whatever  to  doubt  that  he  was  per- 
fectly content  with  her  own  style  of  conversation. 

Honoria's  attitude  was  infinitely  less  agreeable  and  ex- 
cusable, and  it  is  probably  waste  of  time  and  pains  even 
to  touch  upon  it.  Her  uncle,  John  Ingestre,  in  publishing 
abroad  his  hint  to  Violet  that  she  had  "  lost  her  man,"  and 
in  adding  a  little  more  to  it  in  the  same  style,  would  have 
simplified  a  biographer's  labors  immensely.  We  prefer  to 
put  it  in  Violet's  manner :  that  Honoria  had  been  through 
a  "  terrible  time  "  of  disappointment  and  sullen  self-re- 
proach, and  that  she  was  wretched  enough  to  seize  any 
consolation  to  her  defrauded  affections.  The  fact  that  she 
had  determined  to  dislike  Violet,  to  dislike  her  power- 
fully, to  the  extent  of  threatening  physical  violence,  for 
the  few  keen  things  she  had  said  across  her  shoulder  from 
beside  the  coffee-tray  the  night  before,  assisted  her  atti- 
tude hugely.  She  seized  the  first  method  of  stinging  that 
came  to  avenge  her  outraged  dignity. 

Nor  did  Charles  fulfil  his  threat  of  disillusioning 
Honoria  "  hot  and  strong  "  upon  the  doorstep  at  her  de- 
parture, since  Violet  was  down  by  that  time,  grasping  the 
social  reins  with  her  accustomed  skill.  He  only  stood 
upon  his  threshold,  markedly  tamed  and  tractable,  with 
Violet's  hand  through  his  arm,  and  let  her  do  the  talking, 
while  he  gazed  absently  over  Miss  Addenbroke's  shoulder, 
his  eyes  just  missing  her  face.  Nothing  in  the  world  can 
look  so  vague  as  really  blue  eyes  when  they  choose ;  and  if 
Charles'  were  a  little  remorseful  too,  Honoria's  own  pro- 
tuberant pair  did  not  perceive  it.  She  thought  him  charm- 
ing, if  abstracted,  to  the  last. 

"  Thank  goodness,"  said  Violet,  with  heartfelt  relief, 
when  she  was  gone.  "  I  think  now  Cousin  John  may  do 
his  worst,  in  that  quarter.  I  shall  suggest  as  much  to 
Cousin  Agatha,  when  I  write  to-day." 

Violet  was  writing  to  refuse,  with  regret,  a  most  courte- 
ous invitation  from  Mrs.  Ingestre,  the  owner  of  the 
poisoned  lap-dog  in  our  first  chapter,  the  mistress  of 


222  DUKE  JONES 

Ingestre  Hall.  The  girl  did  not  feel  fit  for  such  festivity 
herself,  either  in  health  or  spirits ;  but  she  had  suggested 
to  Charles  that  he  might  go,  and  have  some  dancing  and 
skating.  Charles'  manner  of  replying  showed  that  he  was 
tempted,  for  the  Hall  at  Christmas  was  delightful,  stocked 
with  appropriate  festivities  and  pretty  girls.  Violet  de- 
scribed it  all  to  him,  in  most  attractive  detail,  for  she  had 
visited  there  as  a  child;  but  at  the  end  of  all  he  replied, 
in  a  pretty  formula  that  she  never  forgot,  that  he  liked  a 
little  house  best  in  bad  weather,  and  he  stayed  at  her 
side. 

Violet,  in  bad  or  at  least  uncertain  weather,  was  only 
too  happy  to  have  him,  for  she  needed  sorely  to  divert  her 
thoughts.  She  was  haunted  perpetually,  as  no  girl  should 
be  at  such  time,  by  the  phantom  of  Lisette, — the  tortured 
phantom  of  those  desperate  letters;  and  equally  by  the 
phantom  in  her  father's  house,  the  skeleton  behind  his 
doors.  She  grew  to  dread  even  a  casual  meeting  with 
her  mother,  who  showed  an  aptitude  for  playing  with 
certain  subjects  that  was  exactly  in  proportion  with  her 
perception  of  the  girl's  shrinking  from  them.  In  the 
interval  after  such  an  ordeal,  Violet's  saner  judgment 
persuaded  her  of  a  mental  twist  that  must  account  for  it ; 
and  she  teased  herself  wondering  if  her  father  recognized 
the  condition  also,  and  how  much  of  her  own  suffering 
from  it  it  was  right  or  loyal  to  betray.  It  was  wrong  to 
brood,  anyhow,  she  knew :  yet  she  could  not  avoid  it,  at 
least  when  she  was  alone. 

But  with  Charles  to  fall  back  on,  it  was  different.  She 
told  him  little  or  nothing  of  her  vexations,  but  he  was 
always  there  for  her  to  look  at,  healthy  and  handsome 
and  serene.  He  had  innumerable  friends,  and  it  was 
"  kind  "  of  him,  Violet  considered,  to  stay  with  her  as 
much  as  he  did.  Violet  repaid  kindness  with  kindness  in 
the  walks  of  daily  life,  and  she  spent  herself  upon  his 
entertainment, — though  it  was  not  the  least  necessary. 
Charles  had  long  thought  her  one  of  the  most  amusing 


THE  TALISMAN  223 

people  of  his  acquaintance,  and  he  did  not  change  such 
opinions  easily. 

"  Cousin  Agatha  "  at  the  Hall  did  not  reply  again  to 
the  little  note  of  explanation  she  received  about  the 
Christmas  visit,  tossing  it  to  John  in  silence,  and  noting 
his  grunt,  half  of  regret  and  half  of  approval,  when  he 
had  twice  read  through  the  words.  But  when  the  family 
Ingestre  came  up  for  their  short  season  in  town  in  March, 
she  proceeded  with  remarkable  promptitude  to  call  upon 
the  pair.  John's  description  of  them  had  interested  her; 
and  though  she  disliked  Eveleen  Ashwin  for  several 
reasons,  some  very  remote,  she  saw  no  immediate  reason 
to  dislike  Eveleen's  daughter.  She  was  indeed  very  kind 
to  the  daughter :  brought  her  masses  of  hot-house  flowers, 
even  primroses  from  the  country  since  she  preferred 
them,  talked  to  her  about  indifferent  things,  while  she 
closely  watched  her  face,  and  took  her  several  drives, 
according  as  she  could  stand  it,  in  London  or  beyond. 

"  There's  Eveleen  with  two  carriages,"  she  remarked 
to  John,  "  heaps  of  time  on  her  hands,  of  course,  and 
never  takes  her  out.  The  girl  must  have  quarreled  with 
her,  John, — it's  nonsense.  It's  hardly  decent,  otherwise." 

"  Indecent  if  you  like,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre,  "  it's  not  the 
case.  They  are  still  on  terms,  owing  to  the  men.  Dear 
Eveleen  has  done  all  she  knows,  I  haven't  a  doubt,  to 
make  the  girl  dislike  her  as  much  as  she  dislikes  the  girl. 
But  Eveleen  likes  Shovell,  and  Ashwin  likes  his  daughter, 
— more  than  a  little, — and  there  they  stand." 

"  Well,  I  call  it  disgraceful,"  said  Agatha,  who  had 
been  moved.  "  You  should  have  seen  her  little  pathetic 
face,  when  I  proposed  it.  Can't  rise  to  a  carriage  at  pres- 
ent— naturally :  nervous  of  hired  ones, — goodness  knows. 
Nothing  to  call  a  garden,  some  way  from  the  Park, — 
loves  the  air.  The  air !  You'd  have  said  that  was  a  cheap 
enough  commodity,  even  for  that  selfish  woman  to  offer ; 
but  she  won't." 

"  How  does  the  boy  strike  you  ?  "  said  the  head  of  the 


224  DUKE  JONES 

family,  who  took  his  consort's  opinion  occasionally.  Be- 
ing a  downright  lady,  she  invariably  had  one,  though  Mr. 
Ingestre  stamped  it  underfoot  now  and  again,  just  to 
show  her  her  position.  On  her  opinion  of  Eveleen,  John 
did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  stamp :  knowing  all  about 
it  for  twenty  years  back. 

"  The  boy's  devoted  at  present,"  she  said  shortly. 
"  Can't  say  if  it  will  last.  He  looks  as  if  he  could  be  a 
rogue,  on  occasion." 

"  Somebody — won't  suggest  who — is  putting  it  about 
London  that  he  is." 

"  Contradict  it  then, — it's  nonsense !  Contradict  it, 
John,  do  you  hear?  It's  not  tolerable  that  girl  should  be 
teased,  more  than  she  must  be  in  any  case.  If  anyone 
can  hold  a  man  of  that  sort,  I  back  a  girl  like  that,  once 
give  her  a  fair  chance.  It's  absurd  to  decry  intellect  in 
such  a  case.  If  someone  would  murder  the  mother — 
heaps  of  men  must  be  longing  to  do  it, — her  chance  would 
be  better,  naturally." 

John  merely  raised  an  eyebrow  and  scratched  his  jaw. 
Intellect  was  not  a  word  he  ever  granted  to  women, 
though  he  had  known  some  clever  ones.  Claude's  daugh- 
ter was  cleverish,  and  John  personally  enjoyed  her  com- 
pany; but  he  would  not  have  given  a  penny  for  her 
chances,  with  one  of  Charles'  name,  had  they  depended 
on  her  wits  alone.  John  had  taken  the  trouble  to  look 
up  the  Shovells,  after  he  left  his  cousin's  house ;  and  he 
had  come  to  the  conclusion — oddly  matching  Eveleen's, 
though  entirely  independent, — that  Claude  had  been  hasty 
in  the  alliance.  Not  that  it  mattered,  fortunately,  to 
John :  it  was  off  the  direct  line ;  he  only  drew  Agatha  and 
others  about  Claude's  little  girl,  persistently,  at  every 
opportunity.  He  did  so  now. 

"  I  touched  the  subject  of  Felicia,  foolishly,"  said 
Agatha.  "  I  hadn't  meant  to.  I  tried  to  move  from  it 
again,  but  she  wouldn't  let  me  off.  She  stood  with  her 
back  turned,  and  talked  to  me.  Her  feeling's  exagger- 


THE  TALISMAN  225 

ated,  of  course, — silly  little  thing, — but  she  showed  me 
it  all,  in  words.  In  words,  John :  I  did  not  see  her  face 
while  she  spoke  at  all,  and  the  tone's  like  the  father's, 
soft  and  slight.  I  should  have  thought,"  said  Mrs. 
Ingestre  reflectively,  "  of  all  the  women  I  know,  only  the 
Duse  could  make  me  cry,  turning  her  back.  The  girl 
could  have  made  that  sort  of  actress,  granted  a  better 
presence  and  a  bigger  voice." 

"  I  disagree  about  the  presence,"  said  John.  "  She 
has  it,  when  she  likes.  So  has  Ashwin,  on  occasion,  for 
all  his  restlessness.  I  must — really — sometime — go  into 
the  origins  of  that  stock." 

This  short  conversation  was  significant  of  the  stride 
made  by  the  Ashwins  that  season  in  the  Ingestre  estima- 
tion. They  had  become  suddenly  more  interesting,  fas- 
cinating almost,  to  the  other  "  lot."  Claude,  ridiculously 
busy  always,  only  caught  society's  attention  by  flashes,  in 
odd  times.  Everyone  admitted  he  was  worth  having,  if 
you  could  get  him,  that  was  all.  But  that  was  a  good 
foundation ;  and  Violet  promised  to  build  upon  it  rapidly. 
Violet  happened  to  hover  just  at  the  verge  of  several 
"  mondes,"  and  they  all  accepted  her ;  the  smart,  the  in- 
tellectual, the  artistic,  the  old  true-blue  to  which  the 
Ingestres  belonged,  even  the  useful  people,  who  cannot  be 
ignored  nowadays, — all  were  allowed  at  least  a  shot  for 
Mrs.  Shovell,  and  put  Mr.  Shovell  in  their  pockets  by  the 
way.  That  Charles  was  naturally  sociable,  and  Violet 
naturally  shy,  is  all  their  biographer  really  means  by  this 
expression. 

Before  what  Agatha  Ingestre  called  her  "  chance " 
vanished  that  season,  she  was  seen  and  admired  a  good 
deal;  though  the  majority  of  the  visitors  to  her  pretty 
little  house  in  the  far-west,  unlike  Agatha  in  the  carriage, 
came  more  for  their  own  sake  than  hers.  She  had  in- 
numerable new  friends,  and  various  well-established  old 
ones;  and  among  the  old,  when  she  least  expected  him, 
faithful  to  his  word,  came  Jones. 


226  DUKE  JONES 

ii 

He  surprised  Violet  very  much  when  she  found  him 
sitting  in  her  drawing-room  one  Sunday  afternoon  in  the 
early  winter, — just  before  the  coming  of  that  New  Year 
which  now  enshrined  her  highest  hopes.  Among  the 
many  un-English  tricks  of  Violet's  little  maid,  from  which 
her  mistress  had  to  wean  her  by  slow  degrees,  was  that 
of  overlooking,  when  she  admitted  a  visitor  with  the 
most  anxious  friendliness  and  a  fascinating  smile,  the 
little  matter  of  the  name.  In  this  case  she  told  Madame 
that  the  gentleman  had  "  bans  yeux "  and  resembled  a 
"  pasteur"  in  his  responses.  (The  gentleman  should 
not,  of  course,  have  had  anything  to  respond  to,  but 
Annette's  taste  for  conversing  with  the  more  sympathetic 
guests  was  past  praying  over,  according  to  Violet.)  The 
result  was  that  Mrs.  Shovell  very  nearly  refused  him: 
which  would  have  been  a  matter  of  lasting  regret  to 
both. 

As  it  was,  she  swept  into  the  drawing-room  with  her 
finest  air,  prepared  to  be  bored  by  a  new  curate, — stood 
a  minute  with  her  brows  up  in  a  manner  he  remembered, 
— and  then  skimmed  in  an  impetuous  flight  to  his  side, 
and  gave  him  the  welcome,  sweet  and  emphatic,  of  which 
he  had  dreamed. 

He  brought  no  news,  he  hastened  to  warn  her  lest  she 
should  be  disappointed ;  but  her  radiant  look  of  welcome 
did  not  change.  It  seemed  she  really  wanted  to  see  him, 
not  merely  his  quarterly  report  on  Miss  Lisette's  affair. 
Asked  whence  he  came,  Marmaduke  confessed  he  came 
from  home,  where  he  had  been  resting  quietly  for  several 
weeks.  But  it  emerged  by  degrees  that  he  had  been  to 
Paris  more  than  once,  and  once  to  Belgium,  on  a  false 
scent.  His  secretaryship  Jones  had  abandoned  mean- 
while, having  found  a  "  fellow  he  knew  "  (probably  called 
Brown)  to  conduct  his  "  show."  This  probable  Brown 
helped  his  researches  by  keeping  his  eyes  and  ears  alert 


THE  TALISMAN  227 

for  news  in  London,  while  Jones  made  raids,  at  intervals, 
upon  the  foreign  centers.  All  kinds  of  "  fellows,"  ter- 
riers of  his  own  breed,  were  helping  Jones  in  the  more 
likely  spots,  and  one  or  two  women  in  Paris,  of  whom  he 
spoke  with  deep  respect.  He  did  not  yet  despair,  Violet 
gathered,  and  always  for  the  same  reason:  because  of 
Miss  Lisette's  loveliness, — he  harped  on  that.  The  thing 
that  was  a  lure  to  others  was  to  Jones'  simple  mind  a 
light, — a  light  unquenchable, — that  might  ultimately  lead 
him  to  her  hiding-place.  It  was  certainly  a  defensible 
point  of  view,  but  it  struck  Violet  as  peculiar  in  the  man 
who  held  it:  and  it  was  one  of  the  oddities  in  their  con- 
versation which  she  stored  for  Charles. 

The  purposes  of  Jones'  call  came  to  light  by  degrees, — 
he  had  no  idea  of  paying  calls  without  a  practical  pur- 
pose, and  would  have  been  mildly  surprised  to  hear  that 
anybody  ever  did  so.  First,  he  had  brought  Mrs.  Shovell 
a  Christmas  offering,  which  he  produced  in  the  most 
shamefaced  manner  from  an  inner  pocket.  It  was  a  little 
box  containing  one  of  her  lost  jewels:  or  rather,  part  of 
one.  As  Jones'  "  luck  would  have  it,"  it  happened  to  be 
the  oldest  and  dearest  of  all.  It  was  the  central  opal  of 
a  lovely  pendant  she  had  worn  during  her  honeymoon,  a 
thing  full  of  milky  mystery  and  colored  flashes,  with  a 
shimmering  blue  light  at  its  heart  which  had  seemed  to 
Violet's  childish  mind  miraculous.  Violet,  naturally, 
having  had  it  in  childhood,  would  have  recognized  it  any- 
where, in  its  setting  or  out.  So  would  her  father,  Sir 
Claude.  And  even  so,  it  appeared,  did  the  well-trained 
terrier  Jones. 

"  How  could  you  remember?  "  said  Violet,  cuddling  it 
in  her  two  hands,  stars  in  the  gray  eyes  lifted  to  him, 
infinitely  pleased.  Before  she  addressed  him,  she  had 
been  talking  to  her  opal,  it  should  be  mentioned,  as  though 
Jones  had  not  been  there.  "  I  thought  I  should  never  see 
that  little  moving  sun  again.  I  wore  it  on  Sundays  in 
the  country  sometimes,  and  when  it  came  about  the  Spirit 


228  DUKE  JONES 

moving  on  the  waters  in  what  they  read,  I  used  to  think 
of  it  and  watch  it  all  the  time.  I  am  sure  that  is  how  the 
Spirit  moved.  I  do  love  chipped  stones, — it  is  rather 
idolatrous  really.  To  worship  it  in  church  was  naughty, 
but  I  was  young.  How  did  you  remember,  Mr.  Jones?  " 

"  I  couldn't  be  sure,"  said  Marmaduke,  a  trifle  flushed. 
"  But  it  looked  to  me  like  yours,  and  I  thought  it  worth 
trying.  I  found  it  by  a  fluke,  turning  over  some  other 
things,  you  know, — not  in  Paris,  but  here.  The  fellow 
could  not  tell  me  how  they  got  it,  they  never  can.  You 
showed  me  it  once,"  he  added. 

"  Did  I  ?  And  you  remembered  ?  You  must  have  a 
natural  eye  for  jewels,  like  Father.  Oh,  I  should  like  to 
introduce  you  to  my  father,  Mr.  Jones.  He  would  thank 
you  for  this,  at  least  as  much  as  I.  It's  silly  how  we 
love  little  bits  of  color,  both  of  us.  It  makes  us  rather 
mad  at  times,  in  the  opinion  of  our  sensible  acquaint- 
ance." 

But  Jones,  distinctly  of  her  sensible  acquaintance,  did 
not  think  her  mad  merely  because  she  made  little  remarks 
to  a  ray  of  light  in  a  stone,  and  asked  it  where  it  had 
been,  and  embraced  it  with  gentle  lips  when  she  thought 
his  eyes  were  off  her.  These  proceedings,  mad  or  sane, 
earned  him  the  purest  pleasure  he  had  known  for  months, 
as  well  as  some  relief.  For  he  had  not  been  perfectly  sure 
the  thing  was  hers  until  he  watched  her  unpack  it  and 
saw  her  face.  Of  course,  even  had  it  been  a  stranger 
opal,  she  might  have  accepted  it ;  but  it  was  far  preferable 
that  it  should  be  her  own,  and  so  no  uncomfortable  ques- 
tions asked.  It  never  even  occurred  to  Mrs.  Shovell, 
"  mad  "  as  she  was,  that  he  had  paid  money  to  recover  it : 
and  for  that  oblivion  Jones  thanked  his  gods.  The  people 
who  forget,  in  a  natural  rapture, — the  rapture  of  a  child, 
an  artist  or  a  religious  devotee, — all  about  money  oc- 
casionally, were  the  people  who  in  life  appealed  to  Jones. 
It  only  showed  once  more,  had  such  a  thing  needed 
demonstration,  that  she  was  all  he  thought  her:  and  she 


THE  TALISMAN  229 

was  even  lovelier  than  he  remembered,  in  her  soft-colored 
winter  clothes. 

He  had  "  no  luck  "  in  his  call,  really,  for  it  seemed 
Mrs.  Shovell  was  going  out. 

"  What  a  pity  you  did  not  come  earlier !  "  she  said, 
for  the  second  time;  and  he  learnt  that  in  spite  of  the 
frozen  fog,  through  which  he  had  groped  to  find  her 
house,  she  was  walking  some  distance,  to  take  tea  with  a 
Lady  Brading.  Jones  would  have  liked  to  assure  her 
that  the  weather,  in  his  opinion,  was  unfit  for  her  or  her 
clothes  either;  but  he  only  said — "  Oh,  yes," — and  looked 
uncomfortable. 

Personally,  he  had  come  on  business,  of  course ;  to  see 
if  Shovell  was  at  home,  to  return  the  jewel,  and  for  one 
other  little  matter  he  proceeded  modestly  to  mention. 
Had  Mrs.  Shovell,  or  Lady  Ashwin,  by  any  chance,  got 
a  good  photograph  of  Miss  Lisette  ?  The  police  had  one, 
but  it  was  not,  in  his  judgment,  a  good  one:  would  not 
identify  her  beyond  dispute.  Since  he  happened  to  be 
there,  he  had  thought  he  just  might 

"  Of  course,"  said  Violet,  in  her  definite  tone,  her  eyes 
dreaming  the  while  on  Jones'  blushing  face.  "  Yes 

.  .  .  I  was  only  thinking "  She  seemed  to  be  only 

thinking  for  a  minute  or  two,  then  she  spoke  clearly. 
"  I  really  have  nothing  the  least  worthy,  nor  Mother, — 
except  the  miniature.  Ledger,  her  father's  master,  did 
that, — a  very  good  man.  She  sat  to  him  often,  too,  which 
makes  it  safer  as  a  likeness,  doesn't  it?  Mother  gave  it 
me  when  she  was  changing  the  pictures  in  her  room  one 
day,  and  I  have  kept  it  by  me  ever  since." 

The  statement  thus  made  to  Jones  was  colored  slightly, 
for  Violet  had  found  the  Ledger  miniature,  banished 
from  the  boudoir,  face  downward  in  a  drawer.  She  had 
assumed  it  without  scruple,  for  she  knew  well  it  would 
never  see  the  light  again  by  Eveleen's  choice ;  and  it  stood 
by  her  bedside,  in  company  with  another  portrait, — 
that  of  a  friend  she  had  loved  and  lost  in  childhood. 


23o  DUKE  JONES 

"  I  am  just  going  to  put  on  my  hat,"  she  observed  to 
Jones,  "  and  I  will  bring  it  down.  Are  you  going  towards 
the  town,  by  any  chance  ?  We  might  walk  together  across 
the  gardens." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Jones.  "  Thanks :  that  would  be  rip- 
ping." He  gasped,  when  she  left  him  alone.  He  was  a 
creature  of  habit,  to  a  really  absurd  degree.  Just  because 
it  chanced  she  had  generally  talked  to  him,  walking  at 
his  side,  his  highest  ambition  was  to  repeat  the  ex- 
perience. And  in  London,  he  had  told  himself  severely, 
to  cherish  such  a  hope  was  absurd. 

It  was  some  time  before  she  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room,  the  miniature  portrait  in  her  hand.  She  had  had  to 
detach  it  from  its  frame,  she  explained;  a  double  one, 
containing  another  portrait,  with  which  she  need  not 
trouble  Mr.  Jones.  He  wondered  foolishly,  frantically 
indeed,  if  the  other  portrait  had  been  hers.  Of  course, 
when  one  comes  to  think  it  over,  a  young  woman  does  not 
keep  her  own  portrait  in  her  room, — but  Shovell  might. 
Jones  was  genuinely  sorry  not  to  see  Shovell,  because 
that  way,  he  might  have  heard  something  worth  hearing. 
This  way,  he  only  heard  of  Miss  Lisette. 

All  the  same,  when  he  took  the  little  painting  in  his 
hands  he  exclaimed  in  involuntary  admiration.  It  was  a 
beautiful  thing,  and  very  like,  especially  as  to  the  lovely 
coloring.  That  was  what  no  photograph  could  ever  give, 
• — a  commonplace,  but  Jones  said  it,  and  Violet  earnestly 
agreed.  She  left  it  in  his  hands  after  a  minute,  and 
walked  away,  looking  back  at  him  once  or  twice  from  the 
window,  as  he  pored  over  Ledger's  portrait  of  Lisette. 
He  pored  long,  as  a  lover  might,  or  a  connoisseur  of  fine 
painting, — or  a  sleuth-hound  who  had  rather  forgotten 
the  original.  But  of  that  latter  alternative,  Mrs.  Shovell 
(being  a  sentimentalist)  did  not  think. 

"  Please  keep  it,"  she  said  definitely,  as  he  would  have 
handed  it  back.  "  It  couldn't  be  in  better  hands,  and  it  is 
some  slight  return  for  this."  She  was  clasping  her  opal 


THE  TALISMAN  231 

still,  nursing  it  unobstrusively  in  one  hand,  up  near  her 
breast. 

"  You  mean — I  may  have  it?  "  said  Jones,  amazed. 

"  Please. — Let  me  pack  it  for  you." 

She  packed  it,  while  he  wondered,  in  layers  of  soft 
paper  and  pink  wool,  for  it  was  evidently  dear  to  her. 
She  was  giving  him  a  thing  that  was  dear  to  her,  an 
intimate  thing,  over  which,  perhaps,  she  had  dwelt  herself 
a  little,  every  night.  Prayed  ? — Marmaduke  was  not  sure : 
but  all  the  thoughts  of  such  a  girl  were  as  good  as 
prayers,  he  believed.  That  was  an  article, — a  late  article, 
— of  his  belief.  The  stiff  aunt  who  left  him  the  fortune 
might  easily  not  have  approved  of  it  at  all.  Yet  Jones 
believed, — he  had  thought  so  more  than  once, — his  own 
mother  would  have  loved  Violet. 

After  that  they  started,  when  she  had  assumed  a  feath- 
ered hat, — not  the  same  one, — thrown  some  furs  about 
her,  and  put  the  jewel  in  her  muff  "  to  show  Margery." 
She  also  apologized  nicely  for  wasting  so  much  of  Jones' 
valuable  time,  and  walked  light-footed  beside  him  for  at 
least  a  mile;  for,  since  we  have  turned  back  in  history  a 
little,  this  was  the  period  when  Violet  was  still  active,  at 
her  most  sociable,  conquering  the  world. 

He  did  not  hear  her  news,  naturally ;  but  she  heard  all 
his,  since  her  questions  about  France  happened  all  to  be 
easy  ones  to  answer.  Jones  had  noticed  this  about  Mrs. 
Shovell's  way  of  questioning  before:  that  any  fellow 
could  talk  to  her,  and  satisfy  her  curiosity.  What  she 
wanted  to  know  was  what  he  could  tell  her,  and  she  could 
enlarge  upon  the  most  ordinary  things, — as  once  she  had 
enlarged  upon  the  weather, — entertainingly.  Besides, 
when  one  enjoys  a  soft  tone,  it  matters  little  what  it  says : 
and  Jones,  his  ear  still  vexed  and  jarred  by  the  hard 
Parisian  voices,  and  their  perplexing  speech,  was  the 
more  easily  charmed  by  hers. 

He  confessed  to  her  as  they  walked  this  recurrent 
trouble  about  the  foreign  language.  That  and  his  appear- 


232  DUKE  JONES 

ance  were  against  him  when  he  haunted  the  places  in 
Paris  where  Lisette  might  be.  They  found  him  amus- 
ing,— and  Marmaduke,  who  had  always  taken  himself 
rather  seriously,  was  surprised.  Mrs.  Shovell  laughed  into 
her  large  muff, — laughed  at  him,  evidently, — but  somehow 
he  did  not  mind  that.  She  asked  his  pardon  the  instant 
after,  and  explained  why  she  had  laughed. 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  at  all  especially  English  in  ap- 
pearance,— but  they  are  so  funnily  quick  to  see.  Some- 
times I  think  it  is  ouf  expression, — our  way  of  taking 
things.  We  can't  look  careless  and  comically  critical, 
which  is  the  proper  Parisian  attitude.  Even  Father,  with 
all  his  practice,  hardly  can.  We — we  mind  much  too 
much." 

We ! — She  included  herself.  She  "  minded  "  then,  as 
well !  Still,  of  course  her  father  had  never  taken  her  to 
those  places  which  Jones  had  been  haunting  during  his 
autumn  visits  to  Paris.  The  idea  was  outrageous:  and 
Sir  Claude,  though  he  had  been  a  medical  student  in  his 
time,  would  be  careful,  exquisitely.  It  was  a  consolation 
to  Jones  to  think  so,  anyhow.  He  had  an  idea  Sir  Claude 
would  have  exactly  his  own  views  about  women, — girls, 
at  least.  He  had  shuddered  at  times  even  to  think  of 
Miss  Lisette,  with  her  shell-like  English  coloring  and  clear 
strange  eyes,  in  some  of  those  places.  But  in  the  case  of 
Miss  Lisette,  who  has  passed  into  the  pitiful  department 
of  Jones'  being,  he  did  not  shudder  often.  The  shudder 
was  general,  so  to  speak.  It  had  been  shuddered  once 
for  all,  years  since.  Work  was  what  applied  to  a  case 
such  as  that  of  Miss  Lisette,  vigorous  work,  not  whimper- 
ing. 

At  the  Lancaster  Gate  they  parted,  since  their  roads 
diverged;  each  with  their  little  packet,  they  went  their 
ways.  They  exchanged  no  promises  or  protestations  at 
parting:  it  was  not  necessary,  since  they  were  of  one 
mind.  Violet  took  for  granted  if  she  could  be  of  any 
assistance  he  would  let  her  know.  Jones  took  for  granted 


THE  TALISMAN  233 

her  claim, — immediate  claim, — to  whatever  news  he  had. 
He  seemed  to  have  her  peculiar  sympathy,  too,  in  his 
self-imposed  quest,  by  the  kind  way  she  looked  him  in 
the  eyes. 

"  It's  so  much  nicer,  dear  Margery,  don't  you  think  ?  " 
said  Violet,  when  Lady  Brading's  crowded  tea-party  had 
dispersed,  and  with  no  more  serious  obstacle  than  the 
baby  to  divide  them,  Violet  had  leisure  to  tell  her  the 
latest  edition  of  Jones.  "  More  comforting,  in  the  case, 
when  you  consider  it,  pathetic  as  it  naturally  is.  I  had 
always  rather  people  were  human,  not  humane.  Here's 
Robert, — I'm  sure  he'll  agree  with  me." 

Robert  evidently  thought  it  probable,  but  he  needed  to 
pick  up  a  few  details  before  he  would  commit  himself, 
even  to  agreement  with  Violet.  Opinions,  in  the  case  of 
Robert,  were  serious  and  weighty  things,  and  women 
tossed  them  about  far  too  freely.  He  heard  details 
solemnly,  while  Margery,  across  the  head  of  his  son  and 
heir,  served  him  with  tea.  Luckily  he  had  foundations 
to  work  upon, — very  luckily,  since  Violet  was  in  an 
erratic  mood.  The  Bradings  shared  nonsense  with  the 
Shovells,  as  a  rule, — that  is,  when  Charles  did  not  go  too 
far ;  and  Robert  and  Margery  had  long  since  been  treated 
to  the  narrative  of  Marmaduke  Jones. 

"  I  can't  really  believe  in  loving  humanity,"  said  Violet, 
walking  about  the  room,  and  coming  to  a  halt  at  intervals 
to  argue  with  one  or  the  other,  as  seemed  most  appro- 
priate and  desirable.  "  One  does  not,  it  is  impossible.  I 
don't  love  the  people  I  meet  in  'buses  or  trains, — I  deeply 
disapprove  of  their  expressions  generally,  and  the  selfish 
way  they  keep  the  window  shut.  If  one  in  the  corner  is 
nice-looking,  I  love  her  naturally ;  or  if  another  begs  my 
pardon,  or  picks  up  my  purse,  I  love  him  instantly,  al- 
ways,— I  watch  his  face  affectionately  till  he  gets  out. 
.  .  .  But  the  bulk, — no,  I  reject  them.  Though  I  al- 
ways supposed  people  like  Robert  or  Mr.  Jones  would 


234  DUKE  JONES 

hold  the  broader  view,  and  snub  me  for  personal  particu- 
larizing,— wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  Not  necessarily,"  said  Robert,  looking  at  Bobbin  and 
Margery.  "  Proceed,  Violet, — only  do  sit  down." 

"  I  can't,"  said  Violet,  "  when  my  emotions  have  been 
stirred ;  you  ought  to  remember  that.  Bobbin,  on  the  top 
of  Mr.  Jones  and  my  opal,  is  really  quite  too  much. 
.  .  .  I  never  hoped  to  discover  the  personal  element 
in  Mr.  Jones,  Margery;  he  always  seemed  to  me,  with 
his  eagle  glance,  from  an  eminence,  to  embrace  humanity. 
He  watched  from  his  mountain-walls, — like  Robert." 

"  Do  leave  Robert  alone,"  said  Margery.  "  He's  hav- 
ing his  tea." 

"  In  Charles,"  said  Violet,  changing  the  issue,  "  the 
personal  element  is  strong,  and  the  eminence  impercept- 
ible. In  Margery,  the  personal  element  is  exaggerated — 
and  delicious.  I  shall  kiss  it  in  a  minute.  In  Robert,  it 
seems  to  vary  according  to  the  time  of  day.  In  Mr.  Jones, 
it  seemed  to  me  to  be  wanting  altogether, — he  would  not 
ever  particularize  the  sea-gulls,  I  remember.  They  were 
just  birds,  to  be  admired  en  masse  for  their  grace,  or 
condemned  for  their  greed.  He  would  not  except  my 
sea-gull,  or  his  sea-gull,  though  they  were  quite  different 
in  the  expression  of  their  wings.  I  noticed  it  as  a  symp- 
tom in  him  at  once.  ...  I  passionately  admired  Mr. 
Jones,  of  course, — so  did  Charles,  really, — but  he  had  not 
quite  come  close  to  me,  if  you  understand,  till  this  after- 
noon. Then,  for  the  first  time,  over  that  lovely  Ledger 
thing,  it  struck  me, — with  what  relief  I  need  not  say, — 
that  he  was  acting  in  this  beautiful  manner,  not  in  the 
cause  of  Humanity, — but  oi  himself." 

"  Isn't  she  awful  ?  "  murmured  Margery  into  her  baby's 
curls.  "  Isn't  she  a  perfectly  shocking  step-aunt, 
Bobbin?" 

"  D'you  mean  the  little  fellow  was  in  love  ? "  de- 
manded Robert,  calmly  eyeing  Violet  from  where  he  sat, 
broad-shouldered,  in  his  chair. 


THE  TALISMAN  235 

"  In  love,  yes.  .  .  .  Almost  in  adoration.  Beauti- 
fully unconscious  of  it, — one  of  the  most  tragic  figures 
I  have  ever  seen.  .  .  .  Though  I  believe  some  of 
our  great  tragedians  were  short  men,"  added  Violet 
dreamily.  She  had  reached  the  window  in  her  perambu- 
lation, and  finding  the  street-lamps  through  the  fog  par- 
ticularly beautiful,  she  stopped  there,  pondering.  Behind 
her  back  the  Brading  pair  exchanged  a  glance,  humorous 
and  indulgent. 

"  Relieve  our  minds,"  said  Robert,  after  a  pause. 
"  Shovell's  oldest  friends  are  trembling,  Violet." 

"Are  they?  Why?— Robert,  really!  You  might  be 
Charles.  Don't  make  that  kind  of  joke,  I  warn  you, — 
it's  not  your  style.  Charles  does  it  better,  though  even  he 
gave  it  up  quite  soon.  I  am  quite  prepared  to  find  this 
evening  that  Charles  has  accurately  grasped  Mr.  Jones' 
condition,  for  ages  past." 

"  He  has,"  said  Robert.  He  reached  for  the  tea-pot, 
since  Margery  was  engaged. 

"What?  You  mean  you  know?  Both  of  you?" 
Violet  swung  from  one  to  the  other,  reproachfully. 
"  Well,  I  do  call  that  horrid  of  you  all,  to  leave  me  out! 
It's  nothing  to  laugh  at,  Margery.  A  convention  is  a  con- 
vention, I  consider;  ask  your  husband.  We  shall  never 
get  anybody's  private  affairs  straight  unless  we  work 
together.  People  will  call  us  gossips,  and  all  sorts  of 
nasty  names, — and  they'll  be  right." 

"  Spare  your  severity,"  said  Robert.  "  Spare  Margery, 
anyhow,  and  let  me  explain.  You  didn't  happen  to  be 
present  when  we  were  last  on  the  Jones  tack, — you  were 
seedy.  We  thought,  naturally,  Shovell  would  go  home  and 
share  with  you.  Even  if  he  hadn't  done  so  already," 
added  Robert.  He  shook  the  tea-pot,  his  eyes  still  on 
Violet.  As  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  within,  he  put  it 
down,  regretfully. 

"  Well,  you  have  taken  the  wind  out  of  my  entire  nar- 
rative," said  Violet,  having  stood  for  some  moments  be- 


236  DUKE  JONES 

tween  them,  in  pallid  desperation.  "  I  might  just  as  well 
sit  down  in  that  other  chair." 

"  Do,  darling,"  said  Margery.  "  Even  Marmaduke  is 
hardly  worth  so  much  exertion." 

"  The  truth  is,"  said  Violet,  breaking  out  suddenly 
again,  after  an  interval  of  painful  thought;  then  she 
ceased,  as  suddenly.  "  Robert,  you're  thirsty.  I  shall 
make  you  some  fresh  tea." 

"  I'd  rather  you  sat  down,"  said  Robert,  mechanically 
protesting,  as  he  delivered  up  the  tea-pot.  "  It's  Margery's 

job,  really,  only "  he  glanced  at  Margery.  "  I  could 

do  it  myself,  only " 

"  Only  she's  looking,"  said  Violet.  "  That's  Charles' 
excuse  as  well.  Charles  made  tea  in  perfection,  at  Cam- 
bridge, for  the  men.  Sometimes  I  wonder,  considering 
his  cowardice  of  the  kettle,  what  it  was  like." 

"  Not  like  this,"  said  her  host,  in  duty  bound,  accepting 
her  ministrations ;  for,  rapidly  as  she  talked,  Mrs.  Shovell 
acted  more  rapidly  still.  "  Awfully  good  of  you,  really, 
Violet.  Thanks.  Now  go  on  with  Jones ;  we're  listening." 

"  Where  was  I  ?  "  said  Violet. 

"  At  the  truth,"  said  Robert,  with  a  twinkle.  "  We'd 
just  got  there.  The  truth  is " 

"  Oh  yes.  The  truth  is,  Robert  and  Margery,  I  was 
rather  worried,  fussing  internally,  when  Mr.  Jones  talked 
about  Lisette  to  me.  That's  what  it  must  have  been.  I 
really  could  not  notice  his  expression  much,  though  of 
course  I  should  have  guessed.  Charles'  mind  was  at 
leisure,  quite, — it  generally  is  for  that  sort  of  thing.  Why 
he  did  not  convey  his  discovery  at  once  to  me,"  said  Vio- 
let, her  brow  knitting,  "  is  a  more  serious  question, — 
much.  I  shall  go  into  that  this  evening.  Considering  the 
beautiful  confidence  that  exists  between  you  two,  and 
the  way  you  betray  your  inmost  thoughts,  invariably,  to 
one  another, — you're  doing  it  at  this  minute, — it  is  too 
humiliating  to  attempt  it  here.  .  .  .  There  is,  ad- 
mittedly to  the  best  of  us,  a  kind  of  free-masonry 


THE  TALISMAN  237 

amongst  men, — yes,  married  men,  Margery,  as  well.  I 
do  Charles  the  justice  to  believe" — Violet's  utterance 
grew  more  painful  as  the  pain  of  her  subject  increased, 
— "  that  he  did  his  level  best  to  share  Jones  fairly  with 
me.  But  when  it  came  to  the  climax, — the  really  ex- 
quisitely touching  climax, — of  another  Man's  narra- 
tive  " 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Robert,  smiling,  as  she  paused. 

"  Charles'  sex  was  plus  fort  que  lui.  That's  all,-1— mine 
is  at  times.  I  forgive  him,  Robert."  She  smiled  wanly 
herself,  and  turned  aside. 

"  This  is  really  a  funeral  oration,"  said  Robert  to 
Margery.  "  Her  image  of  Marmaduke  Jones  is  shat- 
tered really, — she  is  mourning  a  lost  ideal.  That's  as  far 
as  I've  got, — where  are  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  at  Lisette,"  said  Margery  gently.  "  I  have  stuck 
there, — I  do  whenever  the  name  comes  up.  You  never 
saw  her,  Robert." 

"  No,"  said  Violet,  in  the  same  soft  tone.  "  Robert 
never  did." 

Sir  Robert  raised  his  brows.  He  had  no  earthly  desire 
to  look  at  girls  like  that,  if  only  these  two  nice  girls  would 
believe  him.  Women  will  run  men  into  classes,  but  really, 
he  did  not  belong  to  that  class  at  all.  He  liked  and 
admired  Violet,  and  he  loved  Margery,  once  for  all.  He 
had  no  sisters,  and  had  known  few  young  women  well, 
except  these  two.  He  had  simply  no  wish  to  look  at 
others,  unless  to  interview  a  nursemaid  occasionally. 
That  fell  under  his  duties,  according  to  him,  when  his 
son  and  heir  was  in  question,  at  least  from  time  to  time. 

"  Sit  down,  Violet,"  he  said,  almost  sternly.  "  You 
look  so  tired.  Never  mind  Jones, — what  can  Jones 
matter,  compared  with  you  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  Mr.  Jones  she  minds  about,"  said  Margery. 
"  Is  it,  love  ?  "  Violet  stood  near  her,  absently  dangling 
her  fur  tails  for  Bobbin's  diversion.  "  We  don't  think 
about  Mr.  Jones." 


238  DUKE  JONES 

The  girls'  eyes  met,  and  Robert  saw  it,  and  had  im- 
mediately a  new  lease  of  his  late  thoughts.  He  added  to 
them  rapidly,  like  a  clever  builder.  The  intervention,  so 
to  speak,  of  Margery's  mind,  recognized  as  a  mother- 
mind,  made  it  clear  to  him.  That,  then,  was  how  these 
two  girls,  the  girls  of  his  little  world,  thought  of  that 
other,  Lisette.  It  brought  Lisette  into  his  ring  at  once, 
that  pitiful  look  in  Margery's  soft  eyes,  that  patient  bend 
of  Violet's  graceful  neck. 

"  They're  not  wanting  any  help  for  that  business,  I 
suppose  ?  "  he  said  abruptly,  breaking  the  silence.  Mrs. 
Shovell,  without  turning,  shook  her  head. 

"  Money,  you  mean  ? — they  have  heaps.  There's 
Father,  and  the  Ingestres  now,  not  to  mention  Mr. 
Jones." 

"  Oh,  he's  well-to-do,  is  he?  .  .  .  He  would  be,  of 
course,  to  get  that  stone  back  for  you,"  Robert  added 
reflectively. 

Violet  turned  about,  and,  brows  up,  gazed  at  him. 

"  Don't  insult  my  opal,  Robert,"  she  said,  very  gravely. 
"  Fortunes  could  not  buy  it,  or  bring  it  back  to  me. 
Money  could  never  do  it, — Something  Else  was  necessary. 
I  am  talking  to  Bobbin  now,  because  he  understands.  I 
believe,  Bobbin,  that  now  the  opal  has  returned  to  me, 
Lisette  will.  There  is  a  finger  pointing  to  it,  inside  me. 
It  is  not  a  heavenly  prompting,  the  least, — it  would  shock 
Mr.  Jones,  and  your  good  father,  most  deeply.  Your 
cousin  is  a  superstitious  stone-worshiper,  and  it  is  as 
well  for  your  precious  soul,"  said  Violet,  pensively  swing- 
ing her  fur,  "  that  she  is  once-removed." 

Sir  Robert  and  Lady  Brading,  when  Mrs.  Shovell  had 
gone,  relaxed  their  pose  of  grave  attention,  and  laughed. 

"  Shovell's  not  let  on,  then,"  said  Robert.  "  Why  is 
that?" 

"  Jealous,  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Margery. 
"  Charlie  is  perfectly  capable  of  being  jealous,  even  of  a 


THE  TALISMAN  239 

Jones.  You  kept  your  face  splendidly,  Bob, — I  was 
laughing  into  Bobbin's  hair.  Something  else  necessary! 
— Dear  thing,  I  should  think  so!  She  lectured  us  so 
nicely,  didn't  she  ?  I  do  like  to  see  Violet  make  herself 
really  ridiculous, — it's  not  her  way." 

"  I  wish  she  didn't  look  so  white,"  said  Robert,  still 
rather  sternly.  "  If  I  were  Shovell,  I  should  be  anxious. 
Why  can't  she  let  other  people's  interests  go,  and  rest  ?  " 

"  Because  she  wouldn't  be  Violet  if  she  did,"  said 
Margery.  "  I  wouldn't  have  her  different,  anyhow,  and 
I  doubt  if  Charlie  would,  in  his  heart.  Besides,  she  does 
make  time  to  rest ;  she's  very  good.  She  has  made  simply 
the  most  heavenly  little  clothes  you  can  imagine,  Bob. 
Baby  and  I  are  jealous  since  we  saw  them, — aren't  we, 
love?" 

"  She's  a  kind  of  professional,  isn't  she?  "  said  Robert. 

He  alluded  to  Mrs.  Shovell's  pursuits  before  her  mar- 
riage, known  to  him  and  Margery,  since  their  romance 
and  hers  had  coincided.  But  still,  in  spite  of  such  right- 
eous activities  on  Violet's  part,  Robert  remained  anxious 
about  her.  She  was  not,  to  quote  the  formula  of  her 
friends  when  challenged  as  to  such  vague  disquietude, 
a  common  girl. 

in 

Marmaduke  Jones  succeeded. 

Whether  it  was  by  virtue  of  his  steady  purpose  and 
self-devotion,  of  the  moving  light  in  Violet's  opal,  or, — 
more  probable  than  all, — by  virtue  of  the  radiance  of  that 
rarer  jewel,  beauty  wellnigh  perfect  in  our  working-day 
world,  Lisette  was  heard  of  before  that  winter  quite  ran 
out ;  and  from  being  heard  of  to  being  seen,  and  from  that 
to  being  saved,  were  steps  for  such  as  Jones  and  his  fel- 
lowship comparatively  simple  to  take. 

It  is  no  more  than  plain  fact  that  beauty,  such  as  the 
Ingestres  at  their  best  attained  to,  is  not  easy  to  cover 
up:  so  far  Jones'  curious  faith  was  justified  by  common 


24o  DUKE  JONES 

sense.  Eveleen  Ashwin  could  not  conceal  her  name  in 
one  of  the  most  populous  hotels  in  London :  and  Lisette 
Addenbroke  failed  in  the  same  manner  to  hide  her  face  in 
a  more  curious  and  critical  community,  the  half-world  of 
Paris.  Involuntarily,  wherever  she  was,  her  odd  little 
personality  came  to  the  surface,  and  her  beauty  shone 
there,  a  light  to  the  distant  seeker. 

Jones  wrote  to  Charles,  neatly  as  usual,  but  in  terms 
that  betrayed  both  excitement  and  exasperation.  News 
had  come  to  him  second-hand,  in  his  home  near  Leather- 
head,  that  a  girl  like  Lisette  had  been  seen  in  an  art- 
gallery  in  Paris,  some  time  since,  towards  Christmas. 
She  had  been  noticed,  as  it  chanced,  by  a  young  artist, 
friend  of  a  "  fellow  "  Jones  knew  in  Paris.  The  "  fel- 
low," struck  by  the  friend's  description,  had  sent  for  the 
Ledger  miniature,  and  the  friend  had  instantly  declared  it 
the  same  girl.  He  could  not  be  mistaken,  he  said,  because 
of  the  lovely  hair.  Being  a  painter,  and  an  impression- 
able party  as  well,  the  young  man  had  been  able  to 
describe  his  discovery  in  some  detail,  and  he  had  also 
made  a  few  inquiries.  Fragments  of  the  friend's  en- 
thusiastic description  were  handed  to  Jones,  who  in  his 
turn  picked  out  the  more  salient  features  for  Charles. 
They  were  certainly  arresting,  even  to  the  cynical  mind. 

She  was  clad  in  plain  black  and  rather  pale,  but  had 
been  seen  to  smile  more  than  once,  biting  her  lip  between, 
when  the  man  who  appeared  to  be  on  guard  over  her 
addressed  her  remarks.  She  herself  was  painting,  copy- 
ing a  picture,  and  she  worked  with  great  ease  and  deft- 
ness while  she  talked.  While  she  answered,  rather,  for, 
listen  as  he  would,  the  by-stander  could  not  catch  a 
phrase  long  enough  to  determine  her  nationality.  He 
had  had  a  look  at  the  man,  however,  and  described  him 
as  neither  old  nor  young,  well  and  quietly  dressed,  quite 
a  decent-looking  fellow.  The  girl  had  addressed  him  as 
Edmond  once,  pronouncing  it  French  fashion.  Since  the 
man  did  not  move  away,  but  kept  at  her  elbow  looking 


THE  TALISMAN  241 

round  him  jealously,  Jones'  fellow's  friend  had  had  to 
go,  with  some  hope  of  finding  her  the  following  students' 
day,  since  her  painting  was  in  the  early  stages.  Needless 
to  say,  she  had  not  returned,  and  the  baffled  friend  pro- 
ceeded to  inquiries,  quite  as  though  he  had  been  a  sleuth- 
hound  in  the  making.  Counting  upon  her  unusual  ap- 
pearance, he  was  not  disappointed.  The  fair-haired  girl 
had  been  noticed  by  the  vestiaire  at  the  entrance  of  the 
hall,  who  said  she  had  come  twice  with  the  same  man. 
They  knew  the  face  of  the  man,  and  believed  he  was  a 
young  "  collectionneur  "  of  some  importance.  Without 
the  hall,  the  policeman  at  the  gate  had  also  noticed  her, 
• — Frenchmen,  Jones  observed  in  passing,  seemed  better 
than  English  in  this  way, — and  thought  she  had  arrived 
by  a  certain  line  of  omnibus.  This  fixed  the  side  of  the 
river,  and  the  southeast  quarter,  very  vaguely ;  but  vague 
or  no,  wild  or  not,  Jones  was  going  straight  to  Paris  to 
interview  the  "  fellow,"  examine  the  friend,  scour  the 
quarter,  and  watch  the  public  places,  picture-galleries 
above  all.  It  had  evidently  not  struck  Jones  in  any  defi- 
nite form  before  that  it  would  be  well  to  look  for  Lisette 
in  the  world  of  art:  he  had  only  thought,  with  the  prej- 
udice of  his  kind,  of  the  fashionable  theatrical:  yet,  of 
course,  it  was  more  probable,  as  a  hunting-ground,  since 
both  actively  and  passively,  as  craftsman  and  model  too, 
Lisette's  natural  endowment  was  so  remarkable. 

At  the  time  when  Jones'  letter  came,  Violet's  nervous 
state  had  been  vexing  her  father's  mind ;  and,  though  her 
own  doctor  made  nothing  of  it,  with  an  experienced  shrug 
and  smile,  Charles  decided,  on  reflection,  to  tell  her  noth- 
ing of  this  report.  It  was  too  vague,  and  already  of  old 
date.  The  fact  that  it  had  been  sent  to  him,  and  not  to 
her,  suggested  that  Jones  also  was  modest  as  to  its 
worth.  Merely  to  learn  that  her  cousin  was  in  Paris 
would  be  small  solace  to  Violet,  only  added  torment  to 
an  imagination  already  overstrained.  No  more  might 
ever  be  heard  of  Lisette,  quite  easily;  especially  if  she 


242  DUKE  JONES 

were  being  so  closely  guarded.  That  it  was  not  the  same 
guardian  was  reassuring,  so  far  as  it  went.  She  might, 
by  a  happy  chance,  have  fallen  into  good  hands:  but 
even  there  the  evidence  was  frail. 

However,  Violet's  talisman,  or  Jones'  luck,  held  good. 
About  a  fortnight  later,  Charles  called  one  night  at  the 
house  in  Harley  Street,  and  inquired,  with  a  particularly 
harassed  face,  for  Sir  Claude.  , 

The  footman,  to  his  astonishment,  muttered  rapidly: 
"  Not  Miss  Violet,  sir?  " — and  had  to  be  reassured  by  a 
brief  word  before  he  went  his  stately  way.  Evidently  the 
electric  influence  that  had  overset  the  footman's  dignity 
passed  on  through  the  house.  The  doctor's  secretary 
swung  brusquely  out  of  the  study  into  the  hall. 

"  Sir  Claude's  engaged,"  he  said,  drawing  himself  up 
unconsciously,  head  back,  like  a  young  soldier  facing 
fire.  "Is  it  anything?" 

"  No,"  said  Charles,  looking  at  his  eyes.  "  I've  got  to 
see  him,  though,  somehow,  privately.  When  can  I  get 
him,  Ford?" 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Ford,  pointing  to  the  chair  he  had 
quitted.  "  I'll  go  and  see.  He  told  me  not  to  disturb 
him, — if  the  heavens  should  fall.  He's  writing  against 
time  for  the  Press." 

"  If  you  get  the  sack,  I'll  make  it  up  to  you,"  said 
Charles,  dropping  into  a  seat.  "  Or  she  will,  anyhow. 
It's  got  to  be  to-night." 

He  waited  in  a  quiet  house,  growing  ever  more  anxious ; 
for  the  doctor  was  as  hard  as  royalty,  in  these  days,  to 
see.  Charles  had  never,  since  his  schooldays,  felt  so  nerv- 
ous as  he  felt  in  that  long  interval;  except  on  one  other 
occasion, — an  interview  he  had  undergone  in  this  same 
room, — and  then  Violet  had  been  backing  him.  He  had 
a  vision,  as  he  waited,  of  the  sprite  she  was,  thought  of 
his  girl  at  home,  and  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands,  his 
purpose  strengthening.  She  was  right  within  the  sanctu- 
ary of  his  temple:  no  unsightly  miseries  of  the  outer 


THE  TALISMAN  243 

world,  by  any  negligence  of  his,  should  touch  her  now. 
The  gods  themselves  would  hold  her  above  the  storm. 
So  thought  Charles  unwitting,  or  having  forgotten  since 
his  schooldays,  what  the  gods  were  like. 

After  some  twenty  minutes,  his  father-in-law  came  in. 
Charles  sprang  up,  flushing,  with  an  apology. 

"  You  have  spoilt  my  article,"  said  Sir  Claude  in  his 
soft  tone  with  composure,  "  and  I  used  an  unhallowed 
word.  I  recommend  Ford  for  the  Victoria  Cross  to-mor- 
row. Now, — out  with  it,  Charles." 

"  I'm  going  behind  Violet,"  jerked  Charles  in  agitation, 
his  back  half-turned.  "  For  the  first  time.  I've  not  told 
her  a  thing  about  it,  but  I  must  cross  by  the  early  boat 
to  France  to-morrow.  I've  got  to, — I  simply  see  no 
other  way." 

"  There  is  no  way,  but  by  boat,"  said  Claude,  with  his 
most  serious  air  of  attention.  "  Pussy's  not  worse  ?  "  he 
added. 

"  You  know  she's  not,"  said  Charles  resentfully,  "  or 
you  wouldn't  talk  like  that." 

"  I  know  she  is  not,  from  Ford's  complexion.  Take  it 
easy,  then,  can't  you?  Sit  down." 

"Aren't  you  in  a  hurry?"  said  Charles,  surprised. 
The  doctor  was  always  in  a  hurry. 

"  No.  I  tell  you  the  article  is  spoilt — and  posted.  I 
condensed  it,  and  the  asses  will  miss  the  points.  You've 
all  night  if  you  want.  Sit  down." 

"  You  really  are  awfully  kind."  Charles  sat  down,  and 
revised  his  thoughts.  "  It's  like  this.  I  opened  one  of 
her  letters  to-night,  because  I  knew  the  handwriting." 

"  Man  or  woman  ?  "  said  Sir  Claude. 

"  A  young  man, — friend  of  hers." 

"  Very  good,  that's  the  beginning  of  the  end.  You 
naturally  come  to  me  about  it,  but  I  can't  do  anything." 

"  Shut  up ! "  snapped  Charles.  "  No,  really,  it's  too 
bad.  I'm  not  fooling, — it's  serious."  He  looked  at  the 
doctor's  eyes,  and  saw  at  once  that  he  was  serious  too, 


244  DUKE  JONES 

whatever  his  tongue  might  say.  He  was  simply,  on  in- 
stinct, managing  Charles'  nerves,  and  Charles  felt  better 
for  the  treatment. 

"  You  always  have,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  been  awfully 
good  to  me.  I  can't  think  why.  The  more  I  know  of 
her,  the  more  I  wonder."  Claude  snapped  his  fingers, 
merely.  "  The  letter,  as  I  guessed,  was  about  that  poor 
girl,  Miss  Addenbroke." 

"Miss  Honoria?" 

"  Lisette."  Charles  looked  aside,  for  neither  he  nor 
Violet  knew  exactly  where  her  father  was  in  the  Affaire 
Lisette. 

"  Ah,"  he  said  simply.    "  Have  they  news  of  her?  " 

"  More  than  news.  They  have  herself.  This  man  has 
got  her  with  him,  in  his  hotel.  It's  really  almost  a 
miracle,"  said  Charles  dubiously,  "  when  you  come  to 
think." 

"  Miracles  occur,"  said  the  scientist,  "  granted  the  man. 
Who  is  he?" 

"  The  secretary  of  the  S.P.X.Z.  We  met  him  on  our 
wedding  journey." 

"  Oh,  Lord ! "  The  doctor  dropped  into  a  chair. 
"  Hold  on  a  second,  Charles."  He  plunged  his  head  in 
his  hands.  During  the  interval  before  he  lifted  it  again, 
he  dived  into  memory,  brought  up  an  inconspicuous  sec- 
retary, placed  him,  took  his  measure,  and  linked  him  on 
to  John  Ingestre's  reports,  and  on  to  another  talk  with 
his  daughter  in  this  room. 

"  That's  the  man  who  did  not  take  Violet's  trinkets," 
he  observed  pensively.  "  Yes.  ...  It  was  Lisette 
who  did.  Naturally.  .  .  .  You  all  came  up  together 
in  the  train  that  night.  I  wonder  why  I  never  thought 
of  that !  .  .  .  I  wish  to  heaven  you'd  post  me  at  the 
time,"  he  snapped,  "  and  not  six  months  after.  I'm  get- 
ting too  old  for  such  a  strain." 

"  On  my  word,  sir,  I  wish  I  had.  It  would  have  saved 
a  lot  of  wretchedness.  But  Violet  thought " 


THE  TALISMAN  245 

"  I  know  she  thought.  We  might  have  stopped  her 
thinking.  That  would  have  been  clear  gain  to  all,  and 
most  to  her."  He  hung  silent  again,  considering  wearily. 
It  struck  Charles  he  looked  older  and  more  disheartened 
lately,  bright  as  his  eyes  still  were. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  everything,"  he  modestly  sug- 
gested. "Don't  you?" 

"  I  suppose  I  do,  yes :  and  it's  just  worth  the  effort  of 
compiling.  But  Pussy  has  been  bothered — rather  hid- 
eously, I  am  afraid."  Another  weary  pause.  "  Charles," 
he  said  suddenly,  "  will  you  let  me  ask  your  forgiveness 
for  lending  such  a  torment  to  existence,  your  first  year? 
It's  only  the  shreds  of  the  old;  she  will  soon  get  rid  of 
them,  when  the  new  arrives.  But  it  remains  hard  on  you 
to  have  lost  so  much." 

"  Don't, — for  Lord's  sake !  She  has  not  let  me  lose — 
anything.  You're  as  bad  one  as  the  other.  There's 
simply  nothing  I  can  say."  Charles  took  the  extended 
hand,  overcome  for  a  moment  by  real  humility,  an  emo- 
tion he  seldom  felt.  "  You  are  simply  too  awfully  good," 
he  repeated,  wishing  earnestly  as  he  spoke  that  some- 
one would  shoot  his  mother-in-law,  soon, — that  night  if 
possible.  But  since  it  seemed  an  unlikely  consummation, 
he  saw  nothing  for  it  but  to  pursue,  with  the  facts. 

"  This  little  fellow — name  of  Jones — had  a  good  look 
at  Lisette — can't  help  calling  her  that,  'cause  V.  does, 
sorry, — saw  V.'s  anxiety  about  her,  —and,  from  the  min- 
ute we  left  her,  stuck  to  her  like  wax.  Little  Jones  do 
anything  in  the  world  for  my  wife,"  said  Charles ;  "  like 
most  of  us.  You  may  laugh.  I  told  Brading,  anyhow, 
and  he  was  not  the  least  surprised.  Ford  wouldn't  be 
either, — you  just  try  him.  He — he'd  chuck  you  for  her, 
to-morrow." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Sir  Claude.  "  I  had  suspected  it,  but 
I  hope  he  won't." 

"  He  won't  now, — like  to  see  him !  Confound  you," 
jerked  Charles,  "you're  on  to  everything.  I  say,  I 


246  DUKE  JONES 

oughtn't  to  speak  to  you  like  this."  He  seemed  a  little 
surprised  at  himself,  and  stopped.  Sir  Claude  sat, 
"  watchfully  blinking,"  liking  him  better  every  moment. 
So  very  few  people  in  the  world  "  cheeked  "  Dr.  Ashwin, 
or  had  ever  cheeked  him,  that  he  appreciated  the  sensa- 
tion. Violet  did,  of  course,  but  to  have  it  from  a  man 
was  better  fun.  You  will  meet  a  few  superior  minds,  up 
and  down  the  world,  that  adore  to  the  end  the  insolence 
of  healthy  youth,  and  Claude's  was  one. 

"  How  did  Jones  find  Lisette  ?  "  he  said,  gently  goad- 
ing Charles. 

"  Goodness  knows.  He  doesn't  go  into  it.  Some 
extraordinary  stroke  of  luck.  .  .  .  He  heard  she'd 
been  seen  somewhere,  and  roped  her  in,  bit  by  bit.  Then 
he  saw  her  in  a  crowd  on  Sunday,  in  a  park, — I  don't 
know  Paris, — Mont " 

"  Monceau,"  said  Claude :  and  corrected  instantly, 
"  Montsouris." 

"  That's  it, — one  to  you,"  said  Charles  kindly.  "  There 
was  a  big  crowd — some  sight  or  other.  Jones  dodged 
some  men — it  was  a  whole  crew — and  got  a  word  with 
her.  She  chaffed  him,  you  know,  for  following  her, — 
she  would :  she's  the  devil's  own  pluck,  that  girl :  but  she 
noticed  the  address  he  gave.  That's  clear  by  what  hap- 
pened later." 

"  Did  nothing  happen  at  the  time  ?  " 

"  Yes, — a  row  happened.  A  row  generally  does  with 
French  fellows,  doesn't  it?  One  of  the  men  saw  Jones 
speak  to  her,  followed  him  to  a  quiet  place,  and  went  for 
him.  He's  spunk  enough,"  said  Charles,  stretching  his 
fine  limbs  unconsciously,  "  but  not  much  else.  He  got 
bowled  over,  and  broke  his  ankle.  Beastly  bad  luck  on 
the  little  chap,  I  call  it.  They  were  two  or  three  to  one. 
If  that's  what  they  call  fair  fighting " 

"  They  don't,"  said  Claude.  "  Leave  the  French  alone, 
if  you  don't  know  them,  I  advise  you.  There's  too  much 
cheap  talk,  by  far.  Does  Mr.  Jones  need  help,  now  ?  " 


THE  TALISMAN  247 

"  No."  Charles  stared  rather.  "  Money,  you  mean  ? 
He's  got  heaps.  It's  help  for  the  girl  he  wants.  You  see 
— she  has  come  to  him." 

"Ah,  that's  bad.  They'll  be  after  her.  Beauty  is 
notorious  over  there  in  no  time.  There  would  be  a 
hundred  spies  along  the  streets." 

Charles  bit  his  lip.  "That's  it.  He's  horribly  both- 
ered,— and  tied  by  the  leg.  Hardly  knows  the  language 
even, — awfully  handicapped.  It's  not  fair  on  him, — 
that's  why  I  must  go." 

"Why  not  Ford?"  said  the  doctor  quietly.  "He's 
capable." 

"  Thanks  awfully,  sir, — but  it's  Violet's  business,  do 
you  see,  and  that  means  it's  mine.  Besides,"  said  Charles 
awkwardly,  "  I've  a  notion  a  married  man  is  best." 

Claude  opened  his  mouth  to  scoff,  saw  his  son-in-law's 
face,  and  swallowed  the  words  unuttered.  "  Is  the  girl 
ill?"  he  said. 

"Almost  off  her  head — and  a  child  coming.  It's  a 
woman's  work,"  said  Charles. 

A  dead  pause  while  the  doctor  thought,  his  brow  fur- 
rowed in  its  darkest  lines.  He  ran  through  his  female 
relations,  the  Ingestres  being  one  by  one  dismissed  as 
hopeless.  Margery  Brading  was  too  young,  John's  wife 
too  old. 

"  Your  mother,  Charles,"  he  then  said. 

"  Mother's  in  Sicily  for  the  holidays, — I  thought  of 
her."  He  dared  not  look  up,  in  the  next  pause.  Claude 
balanced  Eveleen  finally,  and  dismissed  her. 

"  Violet  would  have  gone,"  he  said,  as  if  to  himself. 

"  Like  a  shot,  yes.  She'd  go  at  this  minute  if  I  let  her 
see  the  letter.  That,"  said  Charles,  "  is  what  I  mean.  At 
the  worst,  she'd  have  sent  me,  wouldn't  she?  I  mean,  of 
course,  barring  you.  You're  too  busy,"  he  added  quickly. 

"  Business,"  echoed  Claude,  "  that  always  bars  the 
essential  thing.  All  the  important  offices  of  life  go  by 
me, — have  for  years.  Now  I  can't  even  take  your  place 


248  DUKE  JONES 

at  Violet's  side.  She  won't  have  me, — Why?  I've  lost 
my  nerve,  for  the  things  that  matter.  She's  too  much  to 
me, — and  I  show  it, — and  she  suffers.  I'd  better  go  to 
Paris  for  her,  Charles.  I  know  the  tongue." 

Charles  sat  awed :  such  fierce  suffering,  past  and  pres- 
ent, came  through  the  tone  in  those  few  short  phrases. 
It  had  not  struck  him  to  consider,  ever,  what  lay  behind 
the  mask  of  easy  languor  the  doctor  turned  to  the  world. 

Before  he  could  speak — "  I  can't,  of  course," — his 
father-in-law  resumed :  "  I'm  speaking  in  dreamland." 
He  got  out  his  engagement-book,  glanced  through  it,  and 
tossed  it  on  the  table.  "  I'll  send  Lady  Ashwin  to  Vic- 
toria," he  said,  smoothing  his  hair  back  with  one  fine 
hand.  "  To  Dover,  if  she'll  go, — to  meet  you.  You  are 
right,  of  course, — a  woman  should  be  there.  Poor  little 
solitary, — no  belongings  worth  the  name.  Eveleen  will 
bring  her  back  here,  naturally." 

Charles  made  one  of  the  efforts  of  his  life,  and  said, 
"  Good, — Lisette  likes  her,"  in  a  tone  that  rang  true. 

"  Likes  my  wife  ?  "  said  Claude,  bitterness  vanishing 
in  pure  surprise. 

"  She  said  so,  in  her  letter  to  Violet.  She  liked  her 
better  than  her  own  people,  she  said.  I  think  she  was 
really  attracted.  She  would  be  glad  to  see  her,  I  am 
sure." 

"  Ah !  .  .  .  Thank  you,  Charles.  That's  useful, 
and  very  probably  true."  He  paused,  lost  in  thought. 
"  She's  nice  to  look  at,  of  course,"  he  said  absently ; 
"that's  something." 

Charles  did  not  smile.  "  Anyone,"  he  declared,  "  would 
like  to  see  anybody  so  beautiful.  Especially  at  that  hour 
of  the  morning." 

"  Night  boat  ?  "  Claude  looked  at  him  ruefully.  "  Oh, 
Lord, — well,  I'll  have  her  roused  at  five.  She  may  get 
off,  with  luck."  After  a  pause,  having  risen,  he  added, 
"  How  are  you  managing  to  shirk  yourself,  by  the  way  ? 
Have  you  the  chief  in  your  pocket  to  that  extent  ? " 


THE  TALISMAN  249 

Charles  told  him  details,  and  the  talk  passed  grad- 
ually to  other  things.  There  was  only  one  further  allu- 
sion to  Eveleen  in  the  conversation,  all  very  friendly 
and  soothing  to  Charles:  when  the  doctor  asked  if  she 
had  come,  as  directed  apparently,  on  such  a  day,  to  take 
her  daughter  for  a  drive.  Charles  had  to  admit  Mrs. 
Ingestre  had  come  once  or  twice,  but  not  Violet's  mother. 
"  Oh  well,"  said  Claude,  "  it  may  be  better  so." 
Better,  he  meant,  if  his  wife  held  off  altogether  from 
Violet  at  this  stage,  as  she  had  seemed  inclined  to  do  of 
late.  It  certainly  simplified  things,  for  both  households, 
if  she  chose  that  course ;  and  it  spared  her  husband  per- 
petual double  thinking,  as  it  were,  which,  in  the  present 
stage  of  his  professional  business,  he  could  hardly  tol- 
erate. 

IV 

But  there  is  no  reckoning  with  a  sense  of  injury,  in 
man  or  woman  either;  it  spurs  even  such  idlers  as  Lady 
Ashwin  to  do  unaccustomed  and  distasteful  things.  To 
seek  her  daughter's  society  out  of  kindness  may  well 
have  been  remote  from  her  habits  at  this  time ;  but  to  seek 
her,  even  to  seek  her  promptly,  when  she  found  herself 
in  need  of  anything  her  daughter  could  supply,  was  no 
more  than  an  ancient  habit  revived. 

Claude,  expert  in  her  mentality  as  he  was,  by  reason 
of  other  distractions,  just  failed  to  follow  her  mind  on 
this  occasion.  He  was  caught  in  the  season's  fullest  rush, 
seeking  ways  and  solutions  for  innumerable  problems  in 
other  lives  besides  his  own:  and  it  just  did  not  strike 
him,  in  the  few  serious  words  he  spoke  to  his  wife  on 
the  subject  of  the  girl  Lisette,  that  he  put  a  new  means 
of  attack  on  Violet  into  her  hands.  He  had  once,  in  the 
stress  of  argument,  called  her  mad,  but,  student  of  the 
diseased  will  as  he  was,  he  did  not  reckon  to  the  full 
with  her  formless  mania.  Eveleen's  quiet  and  rather 
cowed  reception  of  his  brief  directions  to  rise  early, 


250  DUKE  JONES 

drive  to  the  station,  receive  and  bring  back  the  girl,  was, 
so  far  as  it  went,  reassuring.  She  was  decidedly  reduced 
by  his  sweeping  methods  of  late,  and  would  never  com- 
pletely meet  his  eyes.  She  knew,  somehow,  as  even  the 
stupidest  and  most  selfish  wives  may  know,  that  she 
had  cut  Claude  to  the  heart  by  refusing  his  hospitable 
roof  and  capable  protection  to  Lisette  in  her  sorest  need. 
She  had  shamed  and  almost  stupefied  him  by  her  con- 
duct, and  killed  the  last  spark  of  faith  in  her  he  had. 
Now  he  dragooned  her  simply,  rode  her  down  with  a 
force  of  will  he  could  exert  at  need,  had  exerted  all  his 
life  on  the  dull  and  physically  inert,  though  never  yet 
on  her.  In  this  case,  she  learnt,  she  was  to  say  no  word 
to  a  soul, — a  simple  matter  for  Eveleen  usually, — but 
she  was  to  rise  and  dress  at  that  unheard-of  hour,  and  go. 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  said  Eveleen  crossly,  "  if  I  must. 
You  needn't  talk  so  much  about  it." 

And  so  she  diverted  him,  successfully.  He  mentioned 
the  girl  had  no  woman  with  her,  and  why  she  was  in 
need  of  such  countenance.  He  mentioned  she  was  being 
escorted  to  London,  adding  no  names  expressly,  that 
her  wandering  thoughts  might  not  be  distracted  from  the 
duty  in  hand.  And  so  leaving  her,  Claude  flattered  him- 
self the  spring  of  action  he  had  stimulated  in  her,  or 
transferred  to  her  from  his  own  overflowing  energy, 
would  work  without  mishap. 

But  it  occurred  to  Lady  Ashwin,  by  some  quite  nat- 
ural and  easy  processes  of  thought,  since  she  needed  an 
outlet  for  complaint,  to  drop  several  other  small  engage- 
ments, and  go  to  tea  with  Violet.  Nobody  ever  listened 
so  well  as  Violet,  really, — she  had  always  been  sympa- 
thetic with  her  mother's  petty  grievances,  at  least  in 
words.  At  times  her  soft  voice  and  neat  expressions, — 
even  though  they  were  oddly-chosen  Ashwin  expressions, 
— filled  a  gap  for  Lady  Ashwin  that  no  other  could  so 
well  supply.  Then,  even  Violet's  chatter  found  its  uses, 


THE  TALISMAN  251 

since  it  expressed  the  benevolent,  ingenious  thoughts  be- 
hind. 

Besides,  as  the  time  approached,  it  did  seem  too  hard  a 
dispensation,  that  Eveleen  should  be  practically  driven, 
by  Claude's  sharp  phrases, — the  full  injustice  of  which 
sank  into  her  grieved  soul  by  degrees, — to  get  up  before 
six  o'clock  on  a  cold  spring  morning,  in  order  to  meet, 
with  the  least  possible  show  of  sympathy,  the  girl  she 
had  wronged.  It  did  not  exactly  occur  to  Lady  Ashwin 
that  Violet  might  just  as  well  do  it:  but  that  had  so 
often  been  her  attitude  of  mind  in  a  like  case  that  it  was 
at  least  an  easy  position  to  take  up,  at  need. 

The  need,  however,  did  not  immediately  arise,  for  she 
was  softened  by  a  kind  reception.  The  little  maid — being 
a  dense  foreigner — looked  doubtful  at  her  inquiry  and 
went  to  see,  but  Violet  did  not  refuse  her.  It  had  not 
even  entered  Eveleen's  ideas  that  she  might,  since  she 
walked  through  life  on  the  assumption  that  she  was  wel- 
come everywhere,  exactly  as  a  queen  would  walk.  If 
the  question  had  come  up  at  all,  it  was  decidedly  kind  of 
her  to  call  on  Violet,  on  an  afternoon  when  she  had 
heaps  of  other  things  to  do,  and  hand  her  such  matters 
of  gossip  as  she  might,  through  her  recent  quiet  life, 
have  missed. 

Her  condescension  was  repaid  by  the  consideration  it 
deserved.  Violet,  who  had  a  nice  little  room  she  called 
drawing-room, — slightly  larger  than  Lady  Ashwin's 
boudoir, — gave  her  mother  a  very  good  tea,  though  she 
chose  to  languish  on  the  sofa  while  she  dispensed  it. 
She  was  particularly  pleasant,  too,  and  mild, — she  did 
not  fuss  at  all.  It  was  true,  she  was  well-served,  so 
that  the  necessity  of  fussing  hardly  arose.  Lady  Ash- 
win  remarked  with  some  resentment,  in  the  matter  of 
the  attractiveness  of  the  little  meal,  and  the  attentive- 
ness  of  the  little  maid,  that  her  daughter,  "  had  things 
very  nice  "  in  her  new  home.  Since  Violet  had  left  her 
mother's  house,  things  had  stopped  being  as  nice  there 


252  DUKE  JONES 

as  Lady  Ashwin  could  ideally  have  wished.  She  had 
always  had  an  idea  that,  granted  the  right  person  at  the 
head,  a  large  house  like  hers  worked  itself.  Claude  and 
Violet  had  never  allowed  her  to  think  otherwise,  and  it 
was  a  gratifying  article  of  Eveleen's  faith  that  most  of 
the  comforts  of  life  came  automatically  into  being.  Now- 
adays, the  faith  was  shaken  slightly,  since  Claude  was 
frequently  too  busy  to  scold  the  erring  footmen, — not  to 
mention  selfishly  refusing  the  services  of  his  secretary 
for  his  wife's  errands, — and  Violet  was  unable,  appar- 
ently, to  look  in  every  morning  at  a  house  a  couple  of 
miles  away,  to  do  the  food,  the  flowers,  and  the  fruit. 
For  some  time  past  her  daughter  had  not  offered  her 
assistance,  even  on  the  occasion  of  the  larger  dinner- 
parties, to  which  she  was  not  asked. 

On  inquiring  pleasantly  after  Charles,  Eveleen  learnt 
that  he  had  gone  to  Paris,  for  twenty-four  hours,  for  the 
firm.  She  sat  over  this  piece  of  information  quite  a  long 
time,  dwelling  upon  it  in  its  threefold  bearing :  the  place, 
the  period, — and  the  excuse.  She  saw  the  explanation  at 
once  as  an  excuse,  of  course.  "  For  the  firm,"  of  all 
futility!  Lady  Ashwin  saw  quite  a  number  of  things, 
indeed,  having  full  leisure,  and  a  comfortable  chair,  in 
which  to  ponder  upon  the  evidence.  It  had  an  awaken- 
ing quality  for  her  make  of  mind.  While  she  turned  it 
over,  letting  all  its  suggestions  sink  slowly  in,  her  eyes 
were  on  her  daughter's  face,  so  unusually  pensive  and 
tranquil  in  the  shadow  of  the  room:  a  tired  little  face, 
for  all  that,  as  though  she  had  had  too  much  of  life, 
all  told,  of  late.  It  occurred  to  Eveleen  that  it  was 
hard  on  Violet.  From  her  former  position  that  it  was 
likely  to  be  hard,  her  thoughts  now  moved  on  a  stage. 
In  the  child's  present  situation,  it  really  was. 

So  far,  so  good :  a  most  maternal  attitude.  Next,  Lady 
Ashwin  had  to  calculate  what  the  men  were  "  after,"  in 
thus  misleading  her,  and  the  girl,  of  course,  by  the  way. 
Such  calculation  of  motives,  in  her  husband's  case,  was 


THE  TALISMAN  253 

apt  to  be  complicated,  and  tiresome  to  pursue.  Claude 
had  omitted  to  state  that  Charles  was  the  person  who 
had  brought  the  news  of  Lisette,  and  who  had  gone, 
without  an  instant's  delay,  to  meet  and  bring  her  home. 
Claude  had  omitted  it  deliberately,  no  doubt,  being  fond 
of  Violet:  for  the  fact  was  hardly  creditable  to  Charles. 

So  far  Eveleen  could  struggle,  easily :  all  that  lay  along 
the  line  of  her  capital  interest.  On  the  point  as  to  why 
Claude  had  granted  his  wife  the  information,  and  the 
mission,  which  he  expressly  withheld  from  his  daughter, 
Eveleen's  awakened  intelligence  did  not  dwell.  Claude's 
elaborate  efforts  to  spare  Violet  all  forms  of  excitement, 
during  the  weeks  past,  had  not,  of  course,  escaped  his 
wife's  notice,  though  he  might  think  so.  They  made  her 
smile,  though  she  frowned  at  times,  when  he  betrayed 
his  anxiety  over  the  girl  too  rashly,  in  her  presence.  At 
the  period,  which  Lady  Ashwin  remembered  very  well, 
when  she  herself  had  been  in  Violet's  case,  Claude  had 
not  shown  himself  a  quarter  so  careful, — though,  of 
course,  he  always  fussed,  it  was  his  nature. 

Lady  Ashwin  diverted,  with  relief,  to  Charles.  What 
Charles  was  "  after  "  was  likely,  in  any  case,  to  be  simple. 
Charles  was  the  kind  of  man  Eveleen  comprehended, 
whom  she  had  encountered,  in  her  own  experience,  by  the 
score.  He  fell  into  a  class,  and  that  the  commonest  class 
of  all,  the  aboriginal.  Charles'  motives,  in  his  so-called 
journey  "  for  the  firm,"  could  be  all  too  easily  unraveled, 
especially  in  the  light  of  his  mother-in-law's  previous 
comfortably-established  convictions  about  him.  It  all 
fitted  on  to  a  nicety :  indeed,  it  would  hardly  be  straining 
truth, — Eveleen's  truth, — to  say  she  had  predicted  it. 

Eveleen's  mind  recurred  to  Lisette,  vivid  and  graceful 
and  seductive,  as  she  had  been  that  memorable  morning 
at  the  Langham  hotel;  and  her  eyes  shifted  again  upon 
her  daughter,  just  to  compare.  Violet  was  profiting  by 
her  mother's  unusually  prolonged  meditations,  as  it 
seemed,  to  go  to  sleep.  She  had  curled  herself  a  little 


254  DUKE  JONES 

on  the  sofa.  Her  cheek  rested  sidelong  on  her  folded 
hands, — her  favorite  posture  of  sleep  in  childhood,  as 
Eveleen  happened  to  remember.  She  had  not  seen  much 
of  Violet  in  childhood,  she  had  left  her  to  the  nurses; 
but  she  had,  once  or  twice,  when  her  weekly  orbit 
touched  the  nursery,  noticed  her  sleeping  like  that.  She 
looked  at  her  now,  rather  curiously, — she  was  conscious 
of  a  new  curiosity.  Her  dark  hair  was  drooping  low  on 
her  brow, — that  fine  brow,  so  like  Claude's, — and  her 
dark  lashes  were  also  lowered  languidly.  Her  lips  were 
shut  in  a  melancholy  line,  as  always  in  repose.  That 
miserable  look  was  Ashwin  again, — it  meant  nothing  nec- 
essarily, Eveleen  knew.  Yet  she  seemed  extremely 
young  lying  there,  delicate,  helpless, — rather  disturbing. 
Lady  Ashwin,  desirous  at  once  of  erasing  the  picture  the 
girl  made,  and  the  scruples  it  evoked,  had  an  idea,  and 
held  out  her  cup  to  be  refilled.  It  proved  a  good  idea, 
for  Violet  roused,  uncurled  herself,  and  attended  to  her 
natural  duties  as  hostess,  in  her  invariable  meticulous 
manner. 

"  When  will  Charles  be  back  ? "  said  Eveleen,  with 
quite  a  kindly  intonation,  watching  Violet's  proceedings 
with  the  cup,  and  admiring  her  fine  little  hands.  She 
was  suddenly  able  to  admire  her, — for  reasons  which 
we  really  despair  of  interpreting  successfully :  we  prefer 
to  submit  the  fact. 

"  To-morrow,  early,"  said  Violet.  "  He  has  to  go  on 
to  the  office,  poor  boy,  since  he  has  only  the  one  day  off. 
He  shall  have  the  best  breakfast  I  can  manage  first." 

"  Goodness !  What  sharp  work,"  commented  her 
mother.  "  He'll  only  get  an  hour  or  two  in  Paris,  then. 
I  shouldn't  have  said  it  was  worth  it." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Violet  gravely,  "  that  Charles'  pub- 
lishing people  think  it  is.  Or  they  wouldn't  send  him, 
would  they  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Eveleen.  "  Lucas  Warden 
knowing  about  you  and  all."  One  of  Charles'  "  publish- 


THE  TALISMAN  255 

ing  people,"  Mr.  Warden,  was  Violet's  old  friend.  She 
laughed  at  the  remark,  and  looked  at  her  mother,  laugh- 
ing still,  as  she  handed  back  the  cup. 

"  You  do  think  the  world  turns  round  women,  don't 
you,  Mother  dear  ?  "  she  said.  "  You  are  one  of  the  few 
people  I  know  who  are  quite  sure  of  it.  It  is  rather  a 
comforting  view,  sometimes.  .  .  .  That's  right,  is 
it  ? — or  more  cream  ?  " 

Lady  Ashwin  took  the  cream,  and  considered  the  ques- 
tion, slightly  rolling  out  her  lower  lip.  "  Lucas  Warden 
never  married,"  she  observed.  "  So  he  probably  still 
talks  high-flown  stuff  about  women,  but  is  not  really  con- 
siderate. I  don't  think  it  really  considerate,  I  mean,  to 
pick  out  Charles.  There  must  be  plenty  of  men  about 
the  place  who  would  enjoy  going  to  Paris  rather  than 
otherwise." 

"  Suppose,"  said  Violet,  looking  sidelong  under  the 
fingers  she  had  laid  to  her  brow,  "  Mr.  Warden  trusts 
Charles." 

"  Suppose  you  trusi  Charles,"  said  Eveleen,  with  a 
laugh.  "  I  shouldn't." 

"  Explain,"  said  Violet,  with  the  same  lingering,  side- 
long look.  It  melted  even  Eveleen,  for  an  instant. 

"  No,  I  shan't,"  she  declared,  leaning  back.  "  You're 
not  fit  for  teasing.  And,  besides,  your  father  says  I'm 
not  to.  I  caught  it  like  anything  from  your  father  the 
last  time  I  did."  She  looked  most  beautiful  and  serene, 
and  the  idea  of  her  "  catching  "  anything  was  attractively 
ridiculous, — or  would  have  been  in  more  mixed  society. 
Yet  its  immediate  audience  was  not  impenetrable. 

"  Poor  Mother, — did  you?  I'm  so  sorry.  When  was 
that?" 

Lady  Ashwin  was  very  nearly  vanquished  at  this  point. 
She  had  not  reckoned  on  the  charm  mastering  her  that 
she  had  never  let  herself  feel  before.  Really,  for  a 
moment,  she  saw  what  Claude  meant, — the  "  enchant- 
ment "  was  there.  There  was  something  in  the  spirit  of 


256  DUKE  JONES 

this  house,  this  hearth,  the  look  and  tone  of  this  languid 
girl  who  was  her  daughter,  linked  to  her  by  the  nearest 
earthly  tie,  that  nearly  overset  her  selfish  scheming, 
drifted  her  from  her  obstinate  preconception,  once  for 
all.  Her  dearest  theories  were  in  danger  at  that  moment, 
and  her  uncertain  look  betrayed  it. 

"  You  can't  stand  it,"  she  said,  her  eye  wavering,  drop- 
ping involuntarily  from  Violet's  face  to  the  couch  on 
which  she  lay.  "  Talking  about  him, — you  couldn't  be- 
fore." She  added — "  I  shouldn't  let  him  burn  holes  in 
my  sofa-covers,  anyhow." 

"  I  did  not,"  said  Violet.  "  He  let  Honoria,  when  I 
was  not  there.  She  never  apologized,  either:  nasty 
thing." 

"  Oh,  she  wouldn't,"  said  Eveleen.  "  Charles  flirted 
with  Honoria,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  Shamefully,"  said  Violet.  "  He  was  an  absolute  dis- 
grace, at  dinner.  I  had  no  idea  Charles  could  be  like 
that.  You  ought  to  have  heard  him,  Mother." 

"  I  have,"  said  her  mother,  without  a  smile. 

"  You  mean  he  does  it  with  you  ? "  She  laughed 
again.  "  That's  how  he  keeps  in  practice,  is  it  ?  And 
you  don't  sit  upon  him?  Mother  dear,  how  unfeeling! 
You  might  think  of  me." 

Eveleen's  fine  eyes  fixed  her,  rather  blankly.  Really, 
the  girl's  behavior  put  her  out.  She  had  expected, 
naturally,  from  Claude's  fussy  accounts,  to  find  her 
excitable,  brilliant  in  consequence,  and  rather  a  bore  to 
deal  with.  She  was  nothing  of  the  sort;  merely  friendly 
and  playful,  what  Eveleen  called  babyish, — quite  pas- 
sive under  this  unasked  intrusion  upon  her  peace  at  the 
best  hour  of  the  day, — quite  obvious,  even  to  her  mother's 
understanding,  in  all  she  said.  She  was  everything  Eve- 
leen could  best  comprehend  and  appreciate,  to-night : 
and  she  was  pretty  as  well,  surprisingly,  in  the  spring 
dusk  that  became  her  like  a  garment,  shrouding  her  and 
her  hopes  together. 


THE  TALISMAN  257 

"  Your  father  says,"  said  Eveleen  slowly,  when  all  her 
instincts  had  warred  for  some  moments  in  a  disagreeable 
manner,  and  nothing  had  resulted, — "  I  have  got  to  get 
up  early  to-morrow, — go  and  meet  them.  It  is  a  great 
bore." 

"  Meet  whom  ?  "  said  Violet,  tolerant  of  accustomed 
divagation.  "Visitors?  Can't  the  carriage  go ?" 

"  I  should  have  thought  so,"  said  Eveleen,  relieved 
by  the  sensible  suggestion.  "  Joliffe  could  find  them  just 
as  well.  It's  the  early  train, — night  boat, — isn't  it  ?  " 

The  question,  in  three  words,  was  the  betrayal. 

"  You  mean  Father  is  sending  you  to  meet  Charles  ?  " 
said  Violet,  her  vague  look  concentrating,  her  smooth 
brow  knitting  and  lifting,  just  like  Claude's.  "  Why  ? 
You  have  not  heard — there  has  not  been  an  accident, 
has  there,  Mother?" 

"  No,  child.    Lie  down, — do  you  hear?  " 

Eveleen  spoke  sharply,  for  the  change  in  face  and 
voice  was  startling,  even  to  her.  In  a  rush,  she  regretted 
everything,  and  just  too  late.  In  that  instant,  too,  she 
realized  that,  as  always,  Claude  was  right.  The  girl  was 
excitable, — ill,  abnormal,  anything  you  would:  every- 
thing that  her  mother  had  just  comfortably  denied. 
Worse,  Violet  was  clever  still,  in  spite  of  all:  there  was 
no  evading  her,  now  she  had  blundered  so  far.  As  in  a 
hundred  cases  with  Claude,  she  thought  she  had  not 
touched  the  limit,  and  could  still  retract  if  she  would: 
and  found  she  had  crossed  it  for  ever,  and  could  not. 
Lying  itself  was  useless, — Eveleen's  lying,  that  is.  Lying 
is  an  art  like  other  arts,  needing  study,  and  Lady  Ash- 
win  had  never  spared  the  necessary  attention  to  perfect 
it  and  keep  it  fit  for  service  at  a  sudden  need. 

Hardly  knowing  how  it  came  about,  under  a  perfectly 
relentless  shower  of  keen  soft  questions,  she  told  her 
daughter  what  an  hour's  reflection,  at  this  stage  of  af- 
fairs, would  certainly  have  decided  her  to  conceal.  She 
had  no  choice  but  reticence,  really;  it  was  too  late,  by 


258  DUKE  JONES 

far,  for  any  other  course,  even  had  she  had  the  wit  to 
conceive  another  course  open  in  the  first  instance.  Stupid- 
ity, or  rather  partial  thought,  is  the  scourge  of  our 
society,  much  more  so  than  immorality  in  its  franker 
forms.  Half  the  educationalists  recognize  the  supreme 
danger,  and  half  do  not.  Our  foggy  immorality  is,  and 
will  be  to  the  end,  more  ultimately  harmful  than  the 
intelligent  immorality  of  the  French.  No  Frenchwoman, 
it  is  fair  to  conceive,  of  Eveleen's  caste  and  upbringing, 
would  have  committed  the  exact  crime  her  sluggish 
ideas  permitted  her  that  night,  the  thing  that  was  done, 
effectively,  before  she  left  the  house;  for  the  simple 
reason  that  she  would  have  foreseen,  a  few  minutes  be- 
fore speaking,  results  which  Eveleen  refused  to  realize 
or  recognize  until  weeks  had  passed. 

"  He  should  have  told  me,"  the  girl  said,  fighting  her 
weakness,  between  gasps  that  were  not  sobs.  "  It  is 
nothing  but  that  I  mind.  Of  course,  of  course,  I  will 
do  it,  Mother  dear.  .  .  .  This  is  nothing, — the  sur- 
prise,— I  am  quite  well.  No  right  to  be  otherwise  at 
present.  It  is  Lisette.  .  .  .  She  will  want  me,  is 
wanting  me  now.  It  hurts,  really,  to  be  treated  so.  I — 
I  am  not  quite  an  imbecile,  not  yet,  if  they  would  believe. 
.  .  .  Oh,  Charles, — stupid !  How  could  you  ?  " 

She  covered  her  face,  quite  overcome,  shaken  from 
head  to  foot  by  the  shock,  the  revulsion  of  feeling  so 
heartlessly  produced,  on  a  mind  which  Charles'  careful 
acting  and  cheerful  words  that  morning  had  left  com- 
pletely at  ease.  That  made  it  worse  for  Violet  now,  of 
course, — the  memory  of  that  parting  softness.  She  could 
but  envisage  it  as  deceit;  well-meant,  doubtless,  but  so 
undiscerning  of  her  spirit's  needs.  To  leave  her  with  a 
lie  like  that,  and  let  her  hear  now,  from  such  a  quarter, 
— her  pride  was  hurt  as  well.  Did  they  really  think  her 
a  fool?  Had  she  really  given  them  cause,  during  her 
desperate  strife  with  intolerable  odds,  these  latter  days, 
to  think  so? 


THE  TALISMAN  259 

Her  mother's  admirably-timed  proceeding  made  it  just 
as  bad  for  her  as  possible,  tore  her  peace  into  tatters, — 
and  there  was  the  night  ahead.  One  cannot  govern  one's 
thoughts  always,  during  the  night.  She  might  have  slept, 
with  the  thought  of  Charles  coming  back  to  her,  with  that 
same  face,  in  the  morning.  Now — where  was  she  ?  She 
had,  being  what  she  was,  first  to  go  all  the  way  with  her 
mother's  base  suspicion,  no  particle  of  which,  knowing 
her  mother  so  well,  she  could  escape;  and  then  cast  it 
fiercely  from  her, — when  she  did  not  want  at  all  to  think. 
No  grace  of  partial  thought,  or  half-hearted  dallying, 
possible  to  Violet.  When  she  was  least  capable  she  must 
stir,  seize  her  discarded  weapons  anew,  and  fight  to  the 
death,  for  Charles'  honor  and  her  own.  To  stop  her 
thinking,  as  Claude  said,  would  have  been  the  only  chance 
of  relief;  not  to  set  her  divining  and  contradicting,  in 
thoughts  that  assumed  words  as  they  rose,  a  baseless  libel 
on  her  husband's  love:  contemptuously,  passionately, 
loyally  rejecting  it,  thenceforth  and  for  the  whole  night 
long. 

"  Your  father  knew,"  observed  Eveleen,  who  had  risen, 
discomposed  by  the  storm  she  had  aroused.  She  folded 
up  and  put  away  her  suspicion  hastily,  with  an  admir- 
able resolution  to  say  no  more.  She  was  glad  she  had 
not  gone  further,  indeed,  considering  the  shock  the  girl's 
looks  had  already  caused  her.  That  shock  soon  passed ; 
but  it  was  evident  Violet,  in  her  easy  formula,  was  "  not 
fit  for  teasing,"  so  she  desisted  from  further  experiment. 
She  was  "  upset,"  for  the  moment :  but  if  her  mother 
did  nothing,  gracefully,  for  a  time,  she  would  soon  get 
over  her  emotion. 

"  Your  father  had  heard,"  she  repeated,  turned  away. 

"  Yes,  yes, — but  Charles  had  seen.  How  Lisette  clung 
to  me,  and  her  letter.  .  .  .  I  let  him  read  it  with 
me,  Mother, — I  shared  with  him.  I  only  ask  my  share, 
to  be  allowed  to  judge.  I  need  not  have  gone  all  the 
way :  of  course,  the  sea  is  bad.  I  would  have  been  patient 


260  DUKE  JONES 

— sensible — if  they  had  let  me  think  at  all."  She  bit  her 
lip,  her  eyes  tight  shut  against  tears,  still  striving  for 
mastery,  for  the  most  ordinary  means  of  speech.  "  A 
child ! — that  baby ! — oh,  of  course  I  must  go !  Poor  little 
bespattered  thing,  just  from  the  storm:  and  frightened, 
— a  night  journey, — she  so  hates  the  dark.  If  I  had 
known,  she  should  not  have  had  that.  It  is  the  sun, — 
all  the  sun  possible, — now  to  the  end." 

When  she  was  calmer,  she  added — "  You  must  not 
trouble,  dear  Mother:  of  course  I  will  go  to  meet  the 
boat.  There  is  a  good  train, — nine,  I  think.  It  is  only 
to  tell  Joliffe  to  fetch  me, — would  you  mind?  I  should 
like  Joliffe,  I  am — sure  of  him." 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  ought  to,  really,"  said  Eveleen, 
taken  with  a  scruple,  as  she  glanced  at  the  exhausted 
young  face.  "  You  ought  to  have  someone  with  you." 

"  You,"  said  Violet,  lifting  her  gray  eyes.  "  You  are 
the  person  I  ought  to  have.  Mother  dear,  will  you  take 
me  to  Dover?  Baby  Lisette  would  like  it.  It  would  be 
— so  nice." 

It  was  a  very  cunning  stroke,  as  Eveleen  decided  after- 
wards. She  had  hardly  thought  Violet  was  so  sly.  For, 
slipped  in  like  that  unexpectedly,  it  almost  upset  her  into 
agreement,  on  the  spot.  It  did,  in  truth,  seem  so  "  nice," 
— so  eternally  right  as  well, — that  her  own  mother  should 
take  her  in  charge  on  such  an  occasion.  Why  should  she 
not  go  with  Violet  to  Dover,  when  it  looked  so  well,  when 
it  would  divert  Claude's  wrath,  not  to  mention  satisfy 
Eveleen's  own  tiresome  family,  once  for  all  ?  There  was 
nothing  but  habitual  inertia  to  prevent  her,  and  for  a 
second  even  her  lazy  instincts  played  her  false.  It  abso- 
lutely seemed  easier  to  stoop  and  kiss  this  child  of  hers, 
who  made  requests  so  rarely, — say  "  yes  "  with  a  laugh, 
and  take  all  the  ensuing  consequences,  good  and  bad. 

"  I  don't  see  the  point  exactly "  she  began  mechan- 
ically, pondering  it  with  a  pouting  lip.  Whereupon,  fur- 
ther pondering  was  spared  her,  for  Violet  interrupted. 


THE  TALISMAN  261 

"  No  point, — nonsensical :  you  mustn't  mind  what  I  say. 
I  am  going  to  be  extremely  wise  in  my  actions,  to  make 
up.  If  Father  should  get  asking,  you  will  tell  him  that? 
I  don't  want  Father  to  be  angry,  anxious  even, — there  is 
no  need.  Don't  let  him  fuss  about  me,  will  you,  Mother 
dear?  I  am  taking  Annette,  first-class, — everything 
proper  and  prudent  in  the  case.  It's  only  Father  allows 
me  to  be  a  case  at  all.  My  own  man  thinks  me  a  hum- 
bug,— I  can  see  it  in  the  corner  of  his  eye."  She  laughed 
a  little  as  she  lay  quiet,  gazing  through  the  mysteries 
of  the  twilight,  away  from  Eveleen.  "  He  practically  told 
me  yesterday  that  women  had  better  go  back  to  religion, 
— less  burden  to  others  and  themselves.  He  may  be 
right, — though  why  we  should  vex  the  high  Heaven  with 
our  mortal  fidgets,  I  rather  fail  to  see.  Wearying  heaven, 
— isn't  that  the  term  ? — It  certainly  would  I  "  She  laughed 
again,  though  her  hands  were  clenched  tightly  on  the 
cushions  beside  her,  and  her  brow  knit  as  tightly  above 
her  averted  eyes. 

Lady  Ashwin  heard  out  this  and  other  chatter  in 
silence,  thinking  it  best.  She  stood  at  the  girl's  side 
looking  on,  magnificent  in  her  physical  power,  blankly 
uncomprehending.  She  was  bored  mildly,  as  usual,  yet 
reassured  as  well,  since  Violet  had  dropped  that  unusual 
phase  of  drowsy  idleness,  and  was  talking  eagerly,  un- 
necessarily, and  like  herself  again.  She  did  think  once — 
"  You'd  better  take  it  easier  than  that, — less  words  at 
least."  But  she  did  not  even  say  it,  she  was  buttoning 
her  glove. 

She  had  no  idea,  all  the  same,  of  giving  Violet's  father 
the  opportunity  of  a  like  mental  exercise,  as  the  child 
rather  amusingly  suggested.  Claude's  embroidery  on 
the  subject  his  wife  could  do  without.  Claude,  dashing 
about  London  all  day,  interrupted  even  at  meal  times 
with  telegrams  and  messages,  could  be  dodged  in  his  own 
house  very  easily, — had  been  dodged  before  now.  It 
was  distinctly  better  for  the  peace  of  that  house  that 


262  DUKE  JONES 

he  should  remain  in  oblivion  of  his  wife's  change  of 
plans, — her  change  of  his  plan,  a  thing  of  which  Claude 
was  apt  to  disapprove. 

Eveleen  could  manage  the  servants  without  his  inter- 
vention, the  men-servants,  at  any  rate.  Feminine  service 
occasionally  kicked  in  Lady  Ashwin's  god-like  grasp ;  but 
the  excellent  chauffeur,  and  the  admirable  footman,  had 
never  given  her  an  instant's  uneasiness.  She  was  obeyed 
softly  and  swiftly, — unquestioningly,  which  in  cases  like 
the  present  was  more  important.  The  fact  was  provi- 
dential. She  had  but  to  tell  Joliffe,  in  her  idle  fashion, 
that  she  had  changed  her  mind,  and  would  not  want  him 
in  the  morning  after  all ;  and  add,  that  he  could  call  for 
Mrs.  Shovell,  in  the  small  car,  towards  nine  o'clock. 
Eveleen  might  even  mention  an  hour  with  minutes  at- 
tached, since  Violet  was  particular,  and  was  looking  up 
the  train.  "  Towards  nine  o'clock "  Claude  would  be 
still  at  dinner;  and  Eveleen  could,  at  need,  detain  him 
there  and  divert  his  mind.  At  need — real  need — Lady 
Ashwin  would  accomplish  this  with  any  man,  her  hus- 
band not  excepted.  With  commendable  foresight,  even 
while  she  still  buttoned  her  glove  beside  the  couch, 
Eveleen  decided  it  would  be  as  well  to  put  on  her  newest 
gown.  When  she  left  Violet,  with  the  train-hour  noted 
for  Joliffe,  on  a  card,  she  went  home,  very  fairly  at 
ease,  to  do  so. 


The  glare  of  the  great  lamps  caught  Violet's  attention 
as,  almost  obliterated  under  her  heavy  furs,  she  came 
out  to  the  gate. 

"  The  big  car  ?  "  she  lightly  queried,  as  she  settled  the 
storm-collar  under  her  chin. 

"  Yes,  Miss,"  said  Joliffe :  who,  even  at  this  stage  of 
things,  would  not  give  up  the  ancient  appellation.  Since 
all  the  other  servants  followed  Joliffe,  like  sheep,  this  was 
rather  serious,  and  Mrs.  Shovell  had  had  to  tell  him  so, 


THE  TALISMAN  263 

in  her  most  definite  fashion.  Joliffe  had  received  her  re- 
proaches gravely,  and  called  her  "  Madam  "  once ;  where- 
upon the  thing  had  become  hopeless,  because  Miss  Violet 
laughed  herself. 

"  I'll  take  you  to  Dover,"  the  man  added  quietly,  to 
explain. 

"  Oh,  but — ' — "  her  ungloved  hand  went  up  to  her 
breast,  in  equal  uncertainty  and  relief, — "  won't  it  mat- 
ter ?  Does  Father  know  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss,"  said  Joliffe.  "  I  shouldn't  be  here  if  he 
did." 

Sitting  at  his  post,  he  looked  straight  ahead  of  him  at 
the  water-streaked,  wind-swept  road.  It  was  a  stormy 
night,  with  sharp  gusts  of  wind  at  intervals, — absurd  for 
so  slight  a  thing  as  she  seemed  to  be  abroad.  Even  with 
a  bear-skin  to  ballast  her,  she  was  almost  blown  away. 
She  had  laid  a  hand,  unconsciously,  upon  the  gate. 

"Joliffe!  But  you, — your  wife!  Won't  it  matter? 
It's  all  night, — the  boat  comes  in  at  three  o'clock,  you 
know." 

Joliffe  knew  well,  and  his  wife  also.  His  wife,  indeed, 
had  heard  the  whole  of  his  opinions  that  evening,  when 
he  returned  from  the  doctor's  house,  and  his  decorous 
interview  with  her  ladyship  in  her  private  room.  Mrs. 
Mason,  in  her  ladyship's  kitchen,  had  heard  his  opinions 
too,  since  Mrs.  Mason  and  Mrs.  Joliffe  were  intimate 
friends;  though  he  had  spoken  in  the  kitchen  more  dis- 
creetly, for  there  were  younger  ears  about.  And  it  was 
in  direct  consequence  of  these  opinions,  offered  and  ex- 
changed, that  Joliffe  had  stolen  his  master's  traveling-car, 
filled  it  with  rugs  and  comforts  from  the  kitchen  quar- 
ters, and  prepared  calmly  for  an  all-night  run. 

"  I  could  find  Mr.  Shovell,  if  that's  all,"  said  Joliffe,  his 
expression  a  trifle  grim  as  he  glanced  round  at  her.  He 
was  not  half  sure,  considering  what  Sir  Claude  was,  that 
he  was  not  risking  his  place  by  this  proceeding,  and  being 
naturally  a  cautious  person,  he  would  have  been  glad  to 


264  DUKE  JONES 

be  assured  there  was  occasion  for  such  risk,  all  round. 
Not  that  he  doubted  Miss  Violet  had  her  reasons, — she 
invariably  had  reasons  for  what  she  did.  There  was  no 
doubt  the  mission  was  important, — delicate  probably  as 
well;  only,  she  was  more  delicate  and  important  too.  In 
this  case,  she  required  strong  measures,  in  Joliffe's 
opinion :  over-bearing, — sweeping  into  the  house  and  her 
warm  bed  again,  as  Sir  Claude  would  have  swept  her, 
even  while  he  kissed  her  on  the  way.  Joliffe  had  seen 
him  so  "  sort "  Miss  Violet  before  now,  her  nature  being 
so  like  his  that  even  while  his  tongue  raked  her  with 
satire,  at  its  keenest,  she  had  laughed  and  understood. 

"  It's  not  all,"  she  assured  him,  approaching.  "  Miss 
Addenbroke  is  with  Mr.  Charles,  and  she  is  ill.  You 
remember  the  little  Miss  Addenbroke, — the  pretty  one? 
I  think,  that  day  we  drove  to  Glasswell,  she  sat  beside  you 
and  made  friends." 

Joliffe  nodded,  his  lips  still  grim:  but  it  was  with  an 
effort  he  kept  them  so.  He  might  be  risking  his  place,  but 
it  was  worth  it:  more  than  worth  it,  when  she  stood  at 
his  side,  her  bare  hand  on  his  sleeve,  and  spoke  like  that. 

"  We  have  plenty  of  time  now,  haven't  we  ?  "  she  said, 
her  brows  lifting  as  she  debated.  "  Joliffe, — will  you 
come  down  and  talk  to  me  a  moment?  I  will  be  virtuous 
and  sit  inside." 

She  was  virtuous  accordingly,  and  Joliffe  enveloped 
her  in  several  rugs  with  minute  attention.  She  sent  the 
girl  Annette  back  to  the  house,  directing  her  to  wait,  in 
a  few  quick  French  sentences.  Then,  while  the  chauffeur 
stood  beside  her  at  the  carriage-door,  she  leant  forward, 
clasped  her  hands  over  all  the  rugs  about  her  knees,  and 
talked  to  him. 

He  was  hardly  astonished  by  the  matter  of  what  she 
said,  having  half  suspected  it  already.  He  was  in  one  of 
the  positions  of  confidence  in  which  one  is  bound  con- 
stantly to  overhear, — he  was  also  intelligent  and  expe- 
rienced in  the  life  of  at  least  three  classes,  as  skilled 


THE  TALISMAN  265 

mechanicians  of  his  age  and  standing  are  apt  to  be;  but 
the  manner  of  Miss  Violet's  talk  overcame  him  com- 
pletely, as  did  the  sympathetic  knowledge  she  displayed 
of  a  world  not  her  own. 

She  gave  him  his  dues,  to  begin  with ;  she  grasped  his 
position,  the  position  that  was  Joliffe's  secret  pride,  since 
he  held  the  most  important  office  in  the  house,  rivaled 
only  by  the  secretary's,  that  of  saving  his  master's  time. 
When  time  has  the  value  of  Sir  Claude's,  it  could  be  no 
small  responsibility,  and  so  Miss  Violet  admitted,  in 
what  she  said.  Joliffe's  family  friendship  with  Mason 
the  cook  was  no  secret  to  her  either,  nor  the  power  he 
wielded  over  the  younger  man,  and,  through  Mason, 
over  the  younger  women  of  the  staff. 

Well, — Miss  Violet  "  wished  him  to  know,"  in  conse- 
quence,— of  course  she  did.  It  was  no  more  than  a 
characteristic  piece  of  foresight  in  a  mind  that  ever,  like 
her  father's,  swept  needfully  ahead,  to  guard,  by  quiet 
explanation  in  advance,  that  unfortunate  young  lady,  the 
pretty  little  Miss  Addenbroke,  from  probable  miscon- 
ception; to  shield  her  from  backstairs  whispering,  and 
the  slights  that  superior  servants  know  so  well  how  to 
deal  when  they  catch  their  so-called  betters  in  fault.  It 
was  a  thing,  too,  that  she  must  have  known  Sir  Claude, 
with  all  his  benevolence,  could  hardly  attempt  to  do,  and 
which  Lady  Ashwin  was  bound,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
to  overlook.  She  was  the  only  one  to  speak,  then,  as 
Joliffe  was  the  best  to  hear,  and  so  she  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  him  in  private,  while  she  could. 

That  was  Miss  Violet's  view, — very  simple  to  her  mind, 
evidently.  But  to  Joliffe  it  was  striking  and  significant  to 
a  degree  of  which  she  could  hardly  be  aware,  not  realizing 
to  the  full  the  light  in  which  Joliffe's  world  regarded  her. 
She  had  always  been  more  than  "their  young  lady," 
though  that  was  much.  She  had  done  more,  even,  than 
make  up  to  them  by  heedful  kindness  for  her  mother's 
exactions ;  she  had  interpreted  her  father  to  his  servants' 


266  DUKE  JONES 

intelligence.  Claude  was  frequently  formidable  when  he 
least  wished  to  be :  it  was  a  penalty  due  both  to  his  habit 
of  concentrating  his  thoughts  and  utterances,  and  to  nat- 
ural shyness  as  well.  Violet's  sympathetic  feminine  ver- 
sion of  the  same  character  showed  them  what  it  meant, 
and  lent  more  value  to  both  in  their  idea.  She  used  his 
expressions  in  a  manner  they  understood.  She  talked 
of  him  in  a  fashion  to  make  him  familiar.  They  were 
proud  of  "the  doctor,"  and  loyal  to  him,  while  they 
trembled:  her  they  adored.  It  was  simply  the  habit  of 
the  household  to  adore  her,  and  though  she  had  perforce 
become  a  tradition  rather  than  a  fact,  the  newer  and 
perter  of  Lady  Ashwin's  importations  had  to  fall  in  with 
the  domestic  rites :  Joliffe  and  Mason  saw  to  that. 

But  to-night  she  went  a  step  further  in  the  conquest  of 
this  unknown  kingdom  of  hers  than  ever  before.  Know- 
ing how  she  stood, — for  of  course  the  elder  servants 
knew, — that  she  should  speak  on  such  a  theme  at  all, 
above  all  to  such  as  he,  stirred  the  man  to  a  kind  of  angry 
devotion  which  he  was  quite  unable  to  express.  To  say 
that  Joliffe  would  have  laid  his  life  down,  that  night,  for 
his  master's  daughter,  is  to  fall  short  of  the  truth.  The 
English  tradition  of  service  is  very  fine,  criticize  who 
may,  and  excellently  creditable  both  to  masters  and  serv- 
ants in  the  past.  Even  those  who,  like  Joliffe,  have 
fought  themselves  free,  by  their  natural  talents,  of  the 
obligation  to  serve,  often  come  back  to  those  terms  of 
their  own  free  will,  to  demonstrate  how  dignified,  on 
either  side,  that  tradition  is.  Yet  the  difficulties  of  fair 
communication  between  served  and  serving  grow  every 
day  more  considerable,  and  the  obligation  is  chiefly  on 
the  former  to  discover  the  particular  formula  required. 
There  is  a  manner, — hardly  more  than  one  exists, — of 
conversing  across  our  comical  but  convenient  hedges  of 
class  distinction  that  is  infinitely  preferable,  at  least  to 
the  small  owner,  to  breaking  the  hedge  down.  That  proc- 
ess is  rarely  natural,  and,  by  the  peculiar  tenets  of 


THE  TALISMAN  267 

English  servants,  rather  impertinent  as  well;  since  why 
should  a  landmark  be  suppressed  that  they  see  fit  to  trim 
and  guard?  Now,  Miss  Violet  had  no  appearance  of 
blandly  dropping  to  Joliffe's  intelligence,  which  was,  as  a 
fact,  nearly  as  keen  as  hers.  She  hardly  even  cared  to 
translate  her  own  queer  language  to  his  ears.  A  phrase 
or  two  was  too  much  for  him,  for  she  was  rather  absent 
at  intervals,  and,  over  the  central  circumstances,  rather 
shy.  Joliffe,  with  ten  years'  married  experience,  could 
have  saved  her  some  trouble  there,  but,  needless  to  say, 
he  did  nothing  of  the  sort. 

"  I  see,  Miss,"  he  said  briskly,  in  the  successive  inter- 
vals she  left  for  him,  and,  while  she  spoke,  stood  in  his 
most  rock-like  manner  of  attention:  the  same  he  used 
when  Sir  Claude,  of  an  evening,  rattled  off  times  and 
places  for  the  car,  each  one  essential,  the  next  day. 

"  Right,  Miss  Violet,"  he  said  finally.  "  That  will  be  all 
right.  There's  a  big  dinner  on  to-morrow,  and  my  wife's 
going  in  to  help." 

"Early?  Oh,  that's  luck,  isn't  it  ?  But  you  will  hardly 
see  Mrs.  Joliffe  before  she  goes,  at  this  rate."  She 
laughed.  "  I  should  warn  you,  perhaps.  Coming  back 
you  will  have  us  both, — no  scorching  possible  on  that 
lovely  road." 

"  It's  no  distance,"  said  the  man  contemptuously. 
"  With  the  easiest  going,  I  daresay  we  shall  get  up  before 
the  train." 

"  So  long  as  you  don't  race  it,"  she  said,  still  smiling 
with  a  nervous  brow.  "If  you  do,  I  shall  fly  at  you, 
probably.  I'm  cross  in  the  morning,  I  can  tell  you, — 
ask  Mr.  Charles." 

"  You  can  take  me  up  sharp,  Miss,"  said  Joliffe 
solemnly,  "  I'm  used  to  it."  He  tucked  one  of  her  rugs 
a  little  further  in. 

"  Yes, — well,  you  shall  not  be  for  this,  I  promise.  It 
was  kind  to  think  of  it,  you  and  Mason  too.  It's  the 
quiet,  you  know,  and  the  friendliness, — infinitely  nicer 


268  DUKE  JONES 

than  a  train.  I  could  go  to  sleep  here — almost."  She 
looked  beyond  him  an  instant  vaguely,  then  gathered  to 
decision.  "  Good,  then,"  she  said,  "  that's  understood, — 
one  thing  off  my  mind,  anyhow."  She  gave  him  her  lit- 
tle bare  hand,  adding  no  further  word,  of  caution  or  of 
thanks.  She  knew  when  a  thing  was  done,  and  never 
hammered  uselessly  on  a  well-driven  nail.  "  We  had 
better  get  off,  hadn't  we,  and  rest  at  the  other  end.  The 

sea  will  be  frightful "  she  shivered, — "  poor  things ! 

— Will  you  tell  my  maid  that  I  am  ready  now?  She 
understands  English  very  well." 

That  was  how  Violet  began  her  ride  to  the  coast  in  her 
father's  stolen  car. 


UNDINE  269 

III 

UNDINE 


VIOLET  was  justified  in  her  premonitory  shiver  that 
stormy  night.  Charles,  at  about  the  same  time,  started 
on  a  weary  journey,  with  a  terrible  charge.  Words  could 
hardly  express  how  he  dreaded  it  beforehand,  for  the 
girl  he  escorted  was  barely  reasonable,  though  tractable 
enough  in  her  helplessness,  and  quiet;  following  all  his 
directions  mechanically,  moving  where  he  pushed,  and 
resting  where  he  placed  her,  though  he  could  not  leave 
her  for  an  instant  alone,  so  great  was  her  unreasoning 
terror  of  all.  He  simply  dared  not  look  ahead  through 
the  weary  hours  of  darkness  before  he  could  have  her 
safe,  as  he  felt,  on  English  ground.  Lisette  was  longing 
for  England,  but  he  wondered,  at  moments,  if  he  should 
ever  get  her  there.  His  spirit  revolted  at  his  position 
now  and  then,  when  he  was  able  to  think  of  himself  at 
all.  Charles  was  a  very  child  in  the  things  of  life,  quite 
unused  to  hardship,  to  the  neighborhood  of  suffering,  or 
to  feeling  its  claims  upon  him.  He  could  only  attempt 
the  most  elementary  consolation  to  the  sick  girl  he 
guarded,  addressing  her  kindly  but  timidly,  as  a  well- 
nurtured  child  would  speak. 

He  had  admitted  once  for  all,  in  this  kind  of  business, 
the  superiority  of  Jones.  He  had  had  to  admit  it,  since 
Jones,  for  all  his  persistent  anxiety  and  genuine  suffering, 
— for  his  foot  was  much  swollen,  and  had  been  ill-tended, 
so  Charles  heard, — was  swimming  in  his  native  waters, 
and  Charles  was  a  fish  most  miserably  out  of  his.  Charles 
had  always  left  such  things  to  other  people,  carefully. 
He  had  never,  as  he  would  have  said,  felt  such  a  fool, — 
so  useless, — as  during  the  first  hour  of  his  arrival  at 
Jones'  small  hotel  in  the  Madeleine  quarter.  He  had 


270  DUKE  JONES 

but  four  hours  there  all  told, — from  five  to  nine, — but  it 
was  enough  to  realize  his  rashness,  completely.  He  had 
not  gathered,  from  his  hasty  reading  of  Jones'  cautious 
phrases  in  the  letter,  composed  for  Violet's  eye,  what 
the  girl's  state  of  cerebral  excitement  and  bodily  ex- 
haustion was,  in  fact.  Further,  he  was  so  patently,  in 
the  eyes  of  both  Lisette  and  Marmaduke,  not  the  person 
who  was  required.  It  was  so  patent  who  was.  Charles 
was  immediately  on  the  defensive  before  both,  to  explain 
the  step  which  had  seemed  natural,  and  rather  creditable, 
in  England.  Nor  was  it  of  any  use  explaining  to  Lisette. 

"  Where's  Violet  ? "  said  Lisette,  having  embraced 
Charles  in  an  amicable  manner,  and  clinging  instantly 
to  his  arm.  She  remembered  him,  as  was  evident,  and 
linked  him  to  her  cousin  in  her  mind.  And,  so  questioned 
and  clung  to,  Charles  must  confess,  with  that  lovely  mask 
of  fear  before  him,  that  Violet  was  not  there. 

"Didn't  she  hear?"  said  Lisette,  only  half  attending, 
heedless,  it  seemed,  of  the  words  he  used.  "  Why  didn't 
she  come,  if  she  knew  ?  Duke  said  he  would  tell  her." 

Charles  glanced  across  the  room  for  assistance.  He 
had  already  explained  to  Jones  what  was  necessary, 
and  Jones,  a  decent  little  fellow,  had  accepted  it  without 
too  great  an  insistence  on  details. 

"  He  did  tell  her,"  he  explained  to  Lisette,  "  but  she 
couldn't  come.  She  isn't  very  well,  you  know, — it's  the 
doctors." 

"  111?  "  said  the  girl.  "  That's  a  lie.  You'd  look  at  me 
if  you  meant  it.  Violet  thinks  me  awful,  I  know.  I  told 
Duke  she  would.  Who's  right  ? "  She  looked  across 
the  room  in  turn,  with  her  beautiful  strange  eyes.  "  She's 
gone  in  with  the  stodgy  lot,  Aunt  and  the  rest.  Violet 
hates  me  now." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  Charles  muttered,  helpless.  "  Jones, 
can't  you  tackle  her  ?  " 

Jones  was  ready. 

"  Come  here,  Lisette,"  he  said,  for  he  could  not  move 


UNDINE  271 

from  his  chair.  He  took  her  hands.  "  Look  here,  listen 
now.  Mrs.  Shovell " 

"  Who's  Mrs.  Shovell  ? "  said  Lisette,  her  eyes  not 
taking  him  in,  though  their  light  lay  round  him. 

"  Violet,"  said  Jones,  his  eyes  apologizing  to  Charles, 
while  the  color  ran  up  his  pale  face,  "  your  cousin.  She 
is  at  home,  waiting  for  you,  quite  ready.  She  has  been 
wanting  you  all  this  time, — I  told  you  about  that,  didn't 
I  ?  Now  she  has  sent  her  husband  on,  to  let  you  know." 

"  Charles  ?  That's  Charles ;  she  called  him  that.  I 
call  people  by  their  names,  quicker, — see?  She  wouldn't 
like  it  if  she  heard.  Violet  thinks  a  lot  of  him,  I  expect. 
He's  gone  on  her  awfully,  anyhow, — bad  as  Edmond  was 
on  me.  Edmond  '11  be  swearing  now, — my  goodness! 
But  it  was  no  good  telling  him,  was  it?  I  had  to  get 
away."  ,.„; 

"You  were  bound  to,"  Jones  assented  quietly.  "The 
only  honest  thing." 

"I'm  honest,  you  think?"  she  said,  handling  him 
affectionately,  as  she  had  handled  Charles. 

"  I  think  so,— yes." 

"  I'd  had  to  have  told  Edmond,"  said  Lisette. 

"  Shouldn't  I  ?  And  then, — my — God "  She  ceased, 

biting  her  lip.  "  He  was  a  good  fellow,"  she  said.  "  Bon 
gargon,  that's  what  they  say.  Gave  me  things, — called 
me  a  lot  of  funny  names.  I  understood  the  way  he 
talked."  She  bit  her  lip  again.  "  It's  awful  to  have  to 
choose." 

"  Awful,"  Jones  agreed  again.  "  But  it's  always  hap- 
pening, and  it's  got  to  be  done.  She,  your  cousin,  had  to 
choose.  And  she  chose  this  way,  of  sending  him  for  you, 
— because  they  wouldn't  let  her  cross  the  sea." 

"  But  she'll  be  on  the  other  side,"  said  Lisette.  "  At 
Dover.  That's  England,  isn't  it?  Shall  I  see  Violet  at 
Dover?" 

So  it  went  on.  She  could  be  distracted  for  a  time, 
by  Marmaduke's  expert  efforts,  but  she  always  came 


272  DUKE  JONES 

back  to  it, — the  conviction  that  Violet  should  be  there. 
Why,  this  good  little  man  of  hers,  "  Duke,"  had  told  her 
she  was  coming,  in  the  manner  Felicia  believed.  She  did 
believe  him,  fully,  when  he  spoke  in  a  certain  way. 
She  did  not  believe  this  Shovell  man  at  all.  And  she 
did  not  care  for  seeing  either  of  them,  really,  had  they 
known.  Lisette  was  "  sick  "  of  men,  utterly.  She  could 
get  on  for  a  time  without  them,  even  nice  clean  English- 
men like  these.  She  wanted  a  hand  to  hold,  an  arm  to 
cling  to,  such  a  light  decided  hand  as  that  which  had 
once  caught  her  wrist  back  from  the  wine,  at  a  crowded 
table,  such  an  arm  as  she  had  grasped  in  the  dark  tunnel 
on  the  long  train,  and  during  those  minutes  at  the  station 
when,  still  intending  to  tease  Violet  by  snatching  the 
jewels,  she  had  kissed  her  on  the  seat.  It  was  those  soft 
tones,  remembered  now  in  her  need,  she  wanted.  She 
was  frightened, — anyone  could  see  it, — equally  scared  of 
what  lay  behind,  pressing  upon  her,  and  of  the  unknown 
inexorable  she  had  still  to  face.  She  looked  all  ways, 
and  found  no  outlet.  It  was  worse  than  any  tunnel, — 
since  tunnels  have  an  end. 

"  It's  a  woman  she  wants,"  murmured  Jones,  with  his 
habit  of  saying  the  obvious;  and  Charles,  by  his  gloomy 
silence,  agreed.  So  far  as  man  alone  could  be  of  use, 
Jones  had  been.  Charles  was  amazed  by  his  resources. 
The  situation  itself  was  unheard  of,  incredible,  to 
Charles'  young-University  ideas.  These  two,  the  young 
man  and  the  beautiful  girl,  barely  mistress  of  herself, 
and  quite  dependent  upon  him,  had  been  alone  in  a  couple 
of  rooms,  constantly  together  in  the  closest  intimacy,  for 
a  week  or  more.  Yet  she  had  no  claim  upon  him  at  all. 
It  was  not  even  as  if  he  knew  her,  by  the  social  standards : 
Jones  knew  nothing  of  Lisette.  He  had  put  together  a 
little,  very  cautiously,  of  her  recent  life  in  talking  to  her; 
but  essentially  (thought  Charles)  she  was  not  his  sort  at 
all.  She  was  essentially  a  girl  of  high  breeding,  lordly 
ancestry,  ill-educated  and  ill-regulated,  no  doubt,  but  her 


UNDINE  273 

claims  were  there,  showing  constantly  in  her  tones  and 
her  fine  pale  face.  It  was  only  at  one  point  her  sphere 
and  Jones'  could  touch, — on  the  side  of  Jones'  pity, — 
because  Lisette  needed,  and  he  could  supply.  Jones  had 
supplied  freely.  He  had  supplied  her  with  comforts, 
warmth,  and  food,  not  to  mention  friendliness,  to  dilute 
his  more  solid  charity.  He  had  found  her  a  doctor,  a 
doctor  who  took  her  condition  with  a  lightness  that  had 
surprised  him;  who  said  that,  though  fatiguee  and 
enervee  for  the  time,  she  would  be  all  right, — in  the 
event.  He  had  next  proposed  sending  Lisette  to  certain 
kind  ladies  of  his  acquaintance  in  Paris;  but  she,  learn- 
ing that  the  ladies  were  French,  and  religious,  would  not. 
She  grew  so  excited,  especially  on  the  subject  of  their 
religion,  that  Jones  had  to  abandon  the  idea  rather 
hastily,  and  fall  back  on  his  own  wits  again.  He  had 
bought  her  everything  for  her  personal  need,  even  clothes, 
— with  the  assistance  of  the  obliging  maid  at  the  hotel. 
He  had  even  supplied  her  with  a  position,  according  to 
his  decorous  little  middle-class  ideas. 

He  explained  to  Charles,  when  by  chance  it  became 
necessary, — the  chance  of  a  servant  addressing  Lisette 
as  Madame, — that  she  was  staying  that  week  at  the 
hotel  under  the  title  of  Jones'  wife.  This  had  been  his 
first  step  on  her  arrival :  such  an  obvious  first  step  to  the 
mind  of  Jones  that  he  had  not  thought  of  mentioning  it 
to  Shovell  until  nearly  the  moment  of  the  girl's  departure. 
Charles  himself  was  her  brother,  he  added,  come  over  to 
fetch  her, — did  Shovell  mind  ? 

Naturally,  Charles  had  no  objection  when  he  turned 
his  mind  that  way.  It  struck  him,  vaguely,  the  thing 
was  in  character, — just  like  Jones:  might  be  tacked  on 
to  the  ancient  narrative,  stored  among  honeymoon  records 
in  the  back  of  his  mind  one  of  these  days.  To  tell  the 
people  at  a  French  hotel  that  this  lovely  little  frantic 
creature  was  his  sick  wife,  joining  him  by  appointment, — 
and  to  fail  to  observe  how  they  smiled !  It  was,  or  would 


274  DUKE  JONES 

be,  some  time  in  the  future,  should  Charles  ever  find  him- 
self, with  mind  at  ease,  at  Violet's  side  again,  an  excellent 
joke  against  Jones. 

For  the  moment  it  was  a  useful  fiction  enough,  and 
served  their  turn.  Charles  was  fair  in  his  coloring,  like 
Lisette,  not  to  mention  that  all  English  types  look  alike 
to  the  French.  He  called  her  by  her  pet  name  easily  now, 
having  spoken  of  her  so  with  Violet ;  and  she  called  him 
Charles,  when  she  used  any  name  at  all.  At  times  she 
lost  the  connection  with  him,  and  seemed  puzzled,  until 
he  reminded  her  by  some  reference  to  their  common  past, 
— so  short  a  past  after  all, — merely  those  three  days. 
When  he  touched  the  sleeve  of  what  she  was  wearing 
once,  and  smiled  at  her  his  charming  easy  smile,  connec- 
tions seemed  to  adjust,  and  she  smiled  back  with  a  spark 
of  her  original  mischief. 

"  It's  hers,"  said  Felicia  softly.  "  Oh,  weren't  you  in  a 
temper  about  it,  too !  I've  worn  it  a  lot  since  then.  Some- 
body— Gaston — put  it  in  his  picture.  He  didn't  get  the 
shadows  right  though,  I  told  him.  They  all  said  it  suited 
me,  in  the  ateliers." 

She  threw  in  a  scrap  of  history  like  this  from  time  to 
time,  gradually  propping  their  conjectures.  They  dared 
not  question  her  about  it.  Charles  was  calm. 

"  It  doesn't  suit  you,"  he  asserted,  "  not  so  well  as  her. 
I  like  her  best  in  it." 

Whereat  Lisette  laughed  sweetly — and  Charles  would 
have  liked  to  cry.  He  was  very  soft-hearted,  and  the 
look  of  her,  certain  gestures  and  turns  of  phrase,  dragged 
him  back  into  the  past, — the  evening  when  he  had  been 
rude  to  her,  and  she  had  played  with  the  pearls.  She 
had  been  such  a  baby, — a  naughty  baby, — lying  across 
that  chair.  Her  face  now,  when  she  was  not  thinking, 
had  the  untroubled  lines  of  childhood  still, — any  man 
would  have  said,  unscathed.  It  was  incredible, — un- 
thinkable,— and  so  Charles  struggled  not  to  think. 


UNDINE  275 

ii 

"  I  suppose  she  got  among  a  painting  lot,  then,  did 
she?  "  said  Charles  to  Jones,  just  for  the  relief  of  ordi- 
nary speech  between  man  and  man,  when  they  had  made 
the  girl  rest  a  little  before  her  journey.  All  was  ready, 
for  she  had  very  few  things  to  prepare.  "  I  say,  it's 
rather  odd  none  of  us  thought  of  that." 

"  Cuckoos,  weren't  we  ?  "  said  Jones.  "  She  must  have 
been  there  quite  a  time,  and  anybody  might  have  heard 
of  her.  It's  quite  a  small  quarter  that  covers  the  studios, 
really.  They  must  have  been  painting  her  night  and  day, 
to  judge  by  things  she's  let  fall,  now  and  again.  I  can't 
make  out  all  of  it, — don't  suppose  anyone  ever  will.  She 
forgets  herself  so  quick  you  see." 

"  That's  luck  for  her,"  said  Charles,  "  I  should  think." 

Jones  agreed.  "  The  worst  came  at  the  start,"  he  said, 
"  no  doubt  of  that.  She  tries  not  to  talk  of  it,  but  when 
she  tumbles  on  it  by  mistake — well,  you  should  see  her 
face.  That's  the  man, — beast ! — she  can't  stand  him.  He 
must  have  been  a  fair  devil,"  said  Jones,  and  his  tone 
gave  the  word  its  full  meaning. 

"  Is  that  the  one  she  calls  Edmond  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  Edmond's  the  last, — the  same  she  was  seen 
with  in  the  gallery.  I  fancy  he  got  her  clear  away  from 
the  other, — settled  it  behind  scenes,  perhaps, — I  hardly 
know.  She  was  pretty  well  off  with  Edmond,  by  what 
she  says.  I'd  like  to  get  hold  of  that  fellow,"  said  Jones 
thoughtfully,  "  before  I  leave.  I've  an  idea  he's  all  right, 
somehow." 

«  l_Say !  "  said  Charles.    "  Look  out !  " 

He  meant  he  would  not  have  done  himself  what  Jones 
was  calmly  proposing.  The  sheer  physical  courage  of 
this  small  and  simple  "  man  in  the  street "  was  what  was 
coming  home  to  Charles.  For  the  sake  of  his  notions  of 
honor  and  fair  play,  he  would  undertake  anything.  He 
had  an  idea,  now,  that  something  was  owing  to  this 


276  DUKE  JONES 

second  fellow  of  whom  he  spoke.  "  Edmond,"  for  whose 
second  name,  which  Lisette  could  not  tell  him,  Jones 
had  been  searching  lists  of  artists  and  art-collectors 
vigorously,  had  withdrawn  the  girl,  it  appeared,  from  the 
gypsy  existence  she  was  leading  in  the  studios,  lifted  her 
right  above  it,  into  security  and  comfort,  in  the  course 
of  a  single  day.  It  was  love  at  first  sight,  for  Edmond, 
certainly,  and  for  Lisette,  it  was  sufficient  liking,  so  that 
she  hesitated  not  to  jump  on  Edmond's  cushion,  when 
advanced. 

Not  that  she  had  been  exactly  unhappy  in  the  studio 
phase,  Jones  gathered;  only  constantly  uncertain,  tor- 
mented by  dread  of  the  black  phantom  behind  of  the 
man  from  whose  clutches  she  had  fled,  eperdue,  at  the 
first  opportunity.  It  was  he,  that  "  first,"  who  had  put 
the  fear  upon  her  originally,  from  the  backwash  of  which 
her  reason  was  almost  shaken  now.  Him  she  had  come 
to  dread  with  the  exaggeration  of  nightmare,  the  night- 
mare her  letters  had  suggested.  Her  face,  when  his 
shadow  fell  across  the  dialogue,  said  Jones,  was — well, 
Charles  had  seen.  Charles  had  once,  and  bit  his  lip. 

"  She'd  have  killed  him,  if  she'd  had  a  chance,"  said 
Marmaduke,  in  his  calm  and  commonplace  tone.  "  I'm 
pretty  sure  of  that.  Except  for  consequences  to  herself, 
I  wish  she  had." 

Charles  rose  to  his  feet  restlessly ;  he  could  not  sit  still 
when  people  talked  like  that.  It  was  hardly  decent.  He 
turned  Jones'  attention  to  the  other  part  again,  the  transi- 
tion period  in  the  ateliers,  which  at  least  had  a  semblance 
of  comedy,  on  the  surface.  Lisette,  it  appeared,  talked  of 
a  whole  gang  of  young  artists  in  a  pleasant  and  sisterly 
fashion  by  their  first  names,  or  nicknames,  and  talked  of 
their  doings  not  unwillingly.  She  had  just  drifted  that 
way  instinctively,  by  right  of  her  birth  and  blood,  finding 
friends  and  admirers  among  them  immediately.  It  was 
really  only  returning  to  a  former  life,  that  of  her  child- 
hood,— with  differences,  of  course.  She  was  "  on  her 


UNDINE  277 

own  "  in  Paris,  and  had  to  "  look  out."  She  had  "  looked," 
Jones  gathered,  quite  capably,  with  the  curious  aptitude 
of  the  Ingestres  for  holding  her  own  amid  the  cross- 
claims  and  jealousies  of  the  other  sex.  The  blood  of 
Lisette's  ancestresses  served  her  there.  They  would  do 
anything  for  her,  she  gaily  said,  and  Jones  did  not  doubt 
it.  She  had  been  dumb  when  she  arrived  among  them, 
blankly  uncomprehending  the  language  spoken  about  her, 
but — these  two  men  easily  imagined — that  must  only  have 
added  to  her  unearthly  charm.  She  had  doubtless  made 
a  sensation  in  the  studios,  not  by  her  beauty  alone.  She 
had  talked  by  means  of  her  pencil,  and  retaliation  was 
ready  instantly  for  those  who  libeled  her ;  for  her  humor 
and  decision  of  touch  in  caricature  was  one  of  her  most 
marked  endowments.  Masters  and  students  alike  roared 
with  laughter  at  her  productions,  and  her  proceedings, — 
her  friendly  demeanor,  and  comical  efforts  to  talk.  She 
must  have  been  an  unequaled  toy,  indeed.  Funny, 
naughty,  and  pretty, — all  the  little  nursery  words  which 
translate  quite  aptly  into  French,  were  the  birthright 
of  Lisette.  They  used  her  pet  name,  too;  it  amused 
them, — and  made  sonnets  and  songs  for  her.  She  admit- 
ted herself  she  had  had  fun  with  the  "  boys," — laughed 
and  wrinkled  up  her  nose  when  she  alluded  to  parts  of 
it.  All  told,  it  was  "  not  bad," — but  the  fear  was  always 
there.  Her  enemy  had  found  her  once,  in  London,  and 
might  find  her  again.  She  lived  in  a  bubble  that  might 
burst  from  day  to  day. 

Only  with  "  Edmond,"  in  quite  another  rank  of  life, 
she  had  for  a  time  escaped  that  fear;  but  she  had  small 
respite,  poor  child.  It  was  but  a  short  interval  before 
a  worse  came  upon  her,  the  complicated  swarm  of  doubts 
and  dreads  that  were  tormenting  her  at  the  present  time. 
For  a  week  or  two  she  had  lived  the  ordinary  bourgeois 
life  with  the  art-collector.  He  was  "  gone  on  her,"  as  she 
innocently  repeated,  utterly,  and  quite  ready  to  marry  her 
if  she  would.  He  would  have  refused  her  nothing, — it 


278  DUKE  JONES 

was  she  who  refused.  She  was  drifting  into  a  life  that 
a  thousand  others  live  in  peace  and  comfort  in  the  capi- 
tals, in  charge  of  a  man  who  was  kind  to  her,  spoilt  her 
even,  and  studied  her  every  whim — when  the  bubble 
about  her  broke.  She  was  cut  off  from  Edmond,  from 
the  niche  of  rock  on  which  his  friendly  arm  had  lodged 
her,  and  tossed  a  chip  on  the  waves  again :  helpless,  since 
the  child  would  not  be  his,  and  she  could  not  tell  him.  It 
was  her  enemy's  child.  Too  proud  to  confess  her  shame, 
— for  this  was  shame  to  her,  this  badge  of  a  bondage 
she  had  not  chosen, — too  honest  to  live  upon  her  bene- 
factor longer  than  she  must,  in  the  circumstances,  she 
could  only  turn,  at  bay,  and  seek  with  hunted  eyes  for 
any  corner  to  hide  in.  At  the  point  of  utter  despair,  her 
eye  had  lighted  upon  Jones  in  the  garden ;  she  had  teased 
him  at  the  time,  but  a  few  days  later  found  herself  driven 
to  apply  to  him,  and  surrendered. 

"  She'd  never  have  come  without,"  said  the  young  man. 
"  It's  only  a  mercy  I  got  the  address  through  to  her  when 
I  did.  She's  proud,  I  can  tell  you, — I've  found  that  out 
these  last  days,  anyhow.  But  there  she  was!  If  that's 
not  being  stranded,  I'd  like  to  know  what  is.  With  a  face 
like  that,  in  a  state  like  that, — a  girl  alone !  She  couldn't 
earn  even, — she  earned  as  a  model  in  the  studios.  I  can't 
see  what  she  could  have  done  but  what  she  did." 

"  It's  ghastly,"  said  Charles  resentfully.  He  would  far 
sooner  not  have  talked  of  it,  really, — Jones  seemed  to 
him  unnecessarily  frank;  but  he  felt,  for  Violet's  sake, 
he  must  know  the  facts.  He  very,  very  much  wished 
Violet  were  there  to  listen  instead  of  him. 

So  did  Jones. 

No  one  would  have  suspected  the  crushing  blow  Violet's 
absence  was  to  Jones  by  his  countenance,  though,  of 
course,  ten  times  over  in  Shovell's  hearing,  he  "  quite 
understood."  He  had  really  been  so  sure  she  would  come, 
even  while,  in  duty  bound,  he  drew  up  lists  of  likely  things 
that  might  detain  her:  other  claims  such  as  a  popular 


UNDINE  279 

young  woman,  at  this  spring  season,  in  town,  must  have. 
He  had  composed  his  long  letter, — the  letter  she  had  never 
seen, — with  care,  so  as  to  disturb  her  as  little  as  possible : 
touching  lightly,  in  a  set  of  concise  business  phrases,  on 
the  perfectly  obvious  steps  he  had  taken,  and  their  per- 
fectly ordinary  results, — just  showing  her  the  case,  Li- 
sette's  and  his,  as  simply  and  barely  as  possible,  and 
proposing  nothing.  Heaven  defend  Jones  from  propos- 
ing, suggesting  even,  to  such  as  she ! 

And  straight  upon  the  letter's  departure  he  had  pic- 
tured her  coming, — one  cannot  chain  one's  fancy  in  these 
things.  Wise  arguments  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  She 
would  come  to  that  hotel  she  had  herself  recommended, 
"  impetuous  "  as  the  spring  breezes,  sweet  and  sane  as 
his  own  spirit  had  always  found  her,  bright-eyed,  swift 
of  hand  and  foot,  all  her  quick  wits  strung  to  their  need, 
dressed,  of  course,  in  a  feathered  hat  and  furs,  ready  to 
direct  their  willing  efforts,  to  console  and  comfort  his 
charge.  She  might  even  have  touched  his  swollen  ankle 
in  passing,  and  given  him  a  word  of  pity  and  a  laughing 
glance ;  it  would  be  so  like  her  to  do  so,  that  it  slipped  in 
among  his  other  conjectures,  unaware.  All  that  foresight 
and  common  sense  alone  could  do,  Jones  had  done,  he 
believed.  The  police,  the  hotel  folk,  the  station  folk  were 
warned, — every  prudent  precaution  had  been  taken.  But 
it  was  not  enough.  The  best  that  poor  mankind  could 
do,  racking  his  brain  during  feverish  nights  of  pain,  was 
not  sufficient.  Another  thing  was  wanted,  the  first  best 
influence  in  Jones'  world,  the  woman, — as  he  said. 

Lisette  kissed  Jones  at  parting.  It  hardly  struck  Charles 
as  singular,  since  that  was  the  way,  for  the  moment,  she 
treated  all  the  world.  She  coaxed  them  with  eyes  and 
lips  to  be  gentle  with  her,  and  clung  simultaneously  with 
one  hand.  She  would  do  it  to  the  railway-conductor, 
very  probably,  thought  Charles,  unable  to  smile  at  his 
own  fancy ;  and,  as  probably,  the  conductor  would  under- 
stand, pity,  and  adore  her  when  she  did.  She  scattered 


28o  DUKE  JONES 

pity  and  adoration  about  her  as  she  went,  Lisette.  She  had 
always  done  so,  to  sensitive  hearts :  that  was  her  "  upset- 
ting "  quality.  And  if  she  had  been  "  upsetting  "  in  her 
virginal  carelessness,  how  much  more  now!  She  was 
intolerable. 

She  called  Jones  "  Duke,"  as  Charles  had  noticed 
already.  Now  Jones  himself  must  have  suggested  that, 
because  no  feather-headed  girl  like  Lisette  could  have 
guessed,  unaided,  what  Jones'  mother's  name  for  her  son 
had  been.  She  must  have  been  helped  by  a  suggestion, — 
it  seemed  also  by  a  jest. 

"  He  said  he'd  make  me  a  duchess,  for  this  week,"  said 
Lisette  to  Charles.  "  I've  married  him, — see  ?  That's 
his  idea, — I  didn't  care.  I  talked  once  to  a  duchess  with 
a  thin  nose,  but  I  didn't  think  much  of  her.  She  didn't 
care  for  me  either,"  said  Lisette  reflectively.  "  Do  you 
think  I'm  like  a  duchess  ?  "  she  appealed  to  Charles. 

"  Not  the  least,"  he  said  with  fervor.  "  Any  more  than 
a  Lady  Alicia;  Jones  remembers  that." 

Lisette  laughed,  her  pretty  vacant  laugh,  and  looked 
down  at  "  Duke,"  her  latest  guardian.  "  I  like  him  better 
now,"  she  observed,  just  to  encourage  Jones. 

Lisette  was  still  sure  "  Duke  "  was  in  love  with  her, — 
she  had  picked  up  that  conviction  just  where  she  left  it, 
her  mind  being  constructed,  in  the  matter  of  convictions, 
like  her  cousin  Eveleen's.  In  virtue  of  that  conviction, 
Jones'  behavior  during  this  peculiar  week  had  been 
exquisitely  entertaining,  had  he  known.  It  was  a  pity 
that  Lisette,  for  various  reasons,  had  been  quite  unable 
to  enjoy  the  really  enormous  joke  he  was.  There  was 
faint  drollery  in  her  expression  as  she  gazed  downward 
now,  but  there  was  more  kindness. 

"Bon  garqon,  that's  what  he  is,"  said  Lisette,  with  a 
little  wrinkle  of  her  nose  to  tease  him.  "  That  means  a 
good  old  sort.  He's  treated  me  like  a  duchess,  anyhow. 
I  hope  that'll  soon  be  well." 

She  patted  the  wounded  foot, — genuine  grace  and  grat- 


UNDINE  281 

itude  in  the  passing  tone  and  gesture.  A  duchess  could 
not  have  done  it  more  prettily,  distracted  by  her  multi- 
farious miseries  as  she  was.  Even  Jones  could  not  have 
doubted  Lisette  was  a  "  lady  "  at  such  minutes, — some- 
thing of  a  great  lady  too. 

"  I  tied  it  up  for  him,"  she  remarked  to  Charles,  "  bet- 
ter than  the  doctor.  That  doctor  was  a  fool,  couldn't 
make  him  comfortable,  could  he?  Poor  Duke." 

"  She  would  make  a  capital  nurse,"  said  Jones.  "  She's 
got  the  hands."  He  was  holding  one  of  the  hands  in  his, 
quietly;  it  was  white  and  soft  as  ever,  for  all  she  had 
passed  through. 

"  I  can  do  lots  of  things,"  said  Lisette  with  conviction. 
"  I  only  didn't  at  home,  because  of  Aunt.  Aunt  supposed 
I  wouldn't,  so  I  didn't, — see  ?  People  must  ask  for  what 
they  want."  Having  laughed,  she  bit  her  lip.  "  I'm  not 
going  there,"  she  said  suddenly,  with  a  flash  of  almost 
panic  doubt.  "  That's  not  where  I'm  going  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Jones.  "  You  know  we  promised,  not 
your  aunt." 

"  I'm  going  to  Violet,"  observed  Lisette.  "  To  her 
house." 

"  That's  it,"  said  Charles,  to  whom  she  appealed.  He 
consoled  himself  with  the  thought  that  it  was  true.  It 
was  to  Violet's  house,  and  to  the  father's  arms  that  had 
once  protected  her,  that  this  poor  little  homeless  "  duch- 
ess "  was  bound.  He  did  not  deceive  her  utterly  when 
he  stated  it. 

All  the  same,  the  journey  was  awful. 

It  was  not  a  night,  to  begin  with,  that  a  strong  man 
would  have  chosen  to  cross  the  sea.  It  was  wild,  with 
floods  of  furious  rain  against  the  glass  of  their  carriage, 
as  they  traversed  Paris  from  west  to  east,  along  the 
glittering  boulevards  at  which  the  girl  hardly  glanced. 
Charles  looked  out  mechanically,  for  Paris  was  new  to 
him,  and  it  was  amazing  to  find  himself  there,  for  this 


282  DUKE  JONES 

flash  of  time,  and  on  such  business.  He  had  no  wish  but 
to  escape  as  soon  as  possible,  and,  though  he  gazed  at  the 
shifting  brilliance  of  the  streets,  no  impression  remained 
upon  his  mind. 

The  crowd  at  the  station,  largely  men,  since  the  local 
trains  were  filling,  was  a  nightmare  to  Lisette.  She  had 
come  to  fear  the  sharp  Parisian  voices,  and  dark  faces, 
even  those  that  looked  at  her  kindly ;  and  many  did.  The 
fair  young  Englishman,  with  his  beautiful,  too  obviously 
souffrante  wife,  was  equally  envied  and  compassionated, 
on  all  hands.  The  task, — to  take  her  traveling  in  that 
state!  The  corvee!  Heaven  guard  those  Frenchmen 
from  such  a  night's  disquiet  as  that  would  be,  for  ex- 
ample !  Only  sheer  necessity,  some  frightful  news,  must 
urge  it,  so  they  told  themselves.  Perhaps  the  illness  of  a 
child, — another  child, — at  home.  Yet,  one  and  all,  and  in 
spite  of  everything,  they  envied  Charles  Lisette. 

One  man,  a  small  one,  recognized  her.  She  saw  it, 
and  clung  frantically  to  her  escort's  arm. 

"  The  other,"  suggested  Charles,  with  an  easy  smile. 
"  Take  the  other  side,  do  you  mind  ?  I  want  the  right 
arm  free." 

But  the  little  man  did  not  approach,  nor  venture  near 
to  the  freed  right  arm.  He  was  too  naturally  modest  to 
do  so,  and  contented  himself  with  a  single  weasel-smile 
at  Lisette,  disagreeable  in  itself,  but  unproductive.  He 
evaporated  in  the  press  about  them,  and  they  entered  the 
train  without  interference  offered  or  the  faintest  offense. 
It  was  only  the  effect  of  the  rencontre  on  the  girl  was 
unfortunate.  Her  beautiful  eyes  searched  the  crowd  till 
the  moment  of  starting,  in  perpetual  apprehension,  above 
a  bitten  lip.  Then  she  subsided,  still  uncertain,  on  the 
cushions,  and  looked  at  Charles. 

"  You're  better  than  Duke,"  she  remarked  to  him. 
"  Gaston  smashed  him  easy,  that  day  by  the  pond." 

"Was  that  the  one  that  bowled  Jones  over?"  asked 
Charles. 


UNDINE  283 

"That?"  She  nodded  backward.  "  Oh,  no.  He's  a 
bit  of  dirt — that's  what  they  called  him  anyhow.  Gaston 
was  better,  a  bigger  man.  I  wasn't  there  when  it  hap- 
pened, you  know;  but  I  heard." 

That  was  about  the  last  piece  of  personal  evidence 
Charles,  or  indeed  any  other,  extracted  from  Lisette. 
In  the  present  confusion  of  her  thoughts,  these  random 
memories  were  dragged  from  her,  but  her  whole  desire 
was  against  looking  backward,  England  her  one  vague 
hope  of  peace ;  and  the  entire  French  episode  was  blurred 
on  her  mind,  as  unreal  as  a  dream  that  is  past,  after  the 
illness  towards  which  her  fate  was  sweeping  her  now, 
as  surely  as  the  train  was  sweeping,  in  that  dear  direction, 
towards  the  coast. 

The  passage  was  bad.  Lisette  was  ill,  and  Charles 
was  terrified.  What  man  would  not  have  been,  with 
such  small  experience  of  life  and  suffering  to  help  him? 
The  women  in  the  cabin  were  kind  to  Lisette,  but  they 
shook  their  heads. 

"  You're  being  met,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  one  of  them  to 
Charles,  and,  at  his  negative,  looked  faintly  impatient 
and  contemptuous  of  such  arrangements,  as  though  they 
regarded  him  as  a  schoolboy  rather  than  as  a  full-grown 
man.  Charles  began  to  think  it  would  be  months  before 
he  could  successfully  build  up  the  dignity  of  his  sex 
again.  Even  Lisette  seemed  a  little  sorry  for  him  when 
the  nature  of  things  allowed  it.  Her  pluck,  even  in  ex- 
tremis, amazed  him,  throughout  the  night. 

"  I  shall  be  all  right,"  she  told  him,  collapsed  completely 
on  her  upper  berth  in  the  hot  and  crowded  cabin,  looking 
like  a  corpse,  blue-lipped  and  pallid  under  the  tangle  of 
her  pale  gold  hair.  "  I've  no  head.  I  always  got  giddy 
at  dances — told  'em  so — Honoria  never  believed  it — 
thought  I  did  it  to  get  into  corners  with  'em — but  fact! 
Couldn't  let  Father  swing  me  even — saw  for  himself  he'd 
better  not.  I  shall  be — this  way — all  the  way  to  London, 
very  likely.  Lord,  you  needn't  be  scared  by  this !  "  And 


284  DUKE  JONES 

curling  up  again,  away  from  him,  she  buried  her  fair  head 
in  her  arms. 

But  Charles  was  scared, — horribly,  and  he  had  the 
leisure  to  be.  The  boat  was  late,  delayed  getting  into 
port  by  the  terrible  seas,  and  the  light  was  coming  as  they 
neared  the  English  shore.  Charles,  gray  with  sheer  anxi- 
ety in  the  morning  light, — for  he  was  an  excellent  sailor 
and,  but  for  Lisette,  might  have  enjoyed  the  adventure, — 
began  to  see  nothing  for  it  but  to  stop  at  Dover  and  wire 
his  father-in-law  to  come  down  to  their  assistance.  It 
looked  poor-spirited,  but  he  was  long  past  considering 
appearances.  It  seemed  the  only  course  of  safety,  the 
only  way  to  avoid  all  risks.  For  his  trouble  was  the  usual 
one,  of  course :  that  among  so  many,  he  knew  not  which 
risks  to  take.  Women  are  more  used  to  this  choice  in  life. 

It  was  not  required.  All  risks  had  been  taken,  for 
Lisette,  in  advance.  The  face  he  loved  best,  dreamed 
of  at  intervals  all  through  that  wretched  night,  was  on 
the  salt-swept  quay  to  welcome  them,  when  the  belated 
boat  came  in.  As  he  strode  off  the  vessel  of  his  torment 
on  to  solid  English  soil,  he  saw  her  suddenly,  in  the 
mingled  lights  of  night  and  day.  Selfish  relief  first,  and 
then  fury  as  selfish,  swept  across  Charles'  face. 

"  Violet !  How  dare  you  ?  "  he  gasped.  He  seized  and 
shook  her,  the  clash  of  feelings  was  so  extraordinary. 
Such  a  night  as  he  had  passed  brings  the  elemental  man 
to  the  surface,  or  rather,  leaves  it  bare.  "  How  dare  you 
think  of  it?  How  did  you  hear? — Oh,  Lord,  darling, 
I'm  thankful.  I've  had  the  devil  of  a  time." 

"  Is  she  here  ?  "  said  Violet,  her  gray  eyes,  under  a  gray 
veil,  searching  the  press  behind  him. 

"  She's  here  all  right,  but  awfully  ill.  That  woman's 
bringing  her  off, — a  decent  sort.  Here, — stand  still.  No 
one's  looking.  Curse  the  veil !  " 

Rough  with  her  almost,  in  his  rage  and  joy,  he  tried 
to  snatch  a  kiss,  there  on  the  open  quay;  but  owing  to 


UNDINE  285 

the  veil  he  execrated,  or  her  own  elf-like  faculty,  she 
eluded  him,  and  he  only  reached  her  cold  rainy  cheek. 
She  shrank  away,  slipped  through  his  fingers, — it  was  as 
though,  for  the  moment,  she  was  not  his. 

"  I'll  give  it  you  for  this  when  we  get  home,"  he  mut- 
tered, still  holding  her  to  him  forcibly. 

"So  will  Father,"  said  Violet.  "I'm  in  for  it,  all 
round.  All  right,  goose,"  she  answered  all  his  questions, 
still  looking  beyond  him  with  steadfast  eyes.  "  Go  and  be 
useful,  will  you  ?  Joliffe's  there.  Tell  him  which  things 
to  take,  no  time  to  lose.  We  have  lost  enough, — needn't 
have  hurried  so."  Then  her  face  changed,  as  it  had  not 
for  Charles.  "  Lisette !  Darling,  what  is  it  ?  Won't  you 
look  at  me?  I  have  been  waiting  such  a  time." 

"  I — I  saw  you,"  observed  Lisette  with  curious  tran- 
quillity, lifting  her  strange  eyes  to  Violet,  as  she  gripped 
her  arm.  "  He  needn't  think  I  didn't  see  him,  because 
I  did.  Violet, — will  you  give " 

"  Look  out,  sir !  "  said  Joliffe,  sharply,  behind  Charles. 
"  Not  Miss  Violet,— the  other " 

Charles,  reckless  of  all  beside,  caught  Violet,  and  held 
her  up  against  a  strain  that  was  making  her  stagger  where 
she  stood.  "  The  other  "  Joliffe  and  another  man  just 
failed  to  catch;  for  Lisette  slid,  with  soft  obstinacy, 
between  them,  and  fainted  full-length  on  the  slippery 
quay,  almost  dragging  her  cousin,  to  say  nothing  of  her 
cousin's  husband,  down  with  her  in  her  fall. 

in 

Jones  had  gone  back,  still  limping  a  little,  to  his  home 
near  Leatherhead,  in  Surrey,  his  work  being  done.  His 
housekeeper  there  was  glad  to  see  Mr.  Jones  back  at  last, 
something  like  permanent,  and  Jones  assured  her  that 
he  had  had  enough  of  foreign  places  for  the  present.  The 
curate  was  glad  to  see  him  too,  for  without  Jones,  in  the 
small  village  where  fate  had  placed  him,  the  curate  was 


286  DUKE  JONES 

bored.  Jones  and  the  curate,  both  having  a  passion  for 
physical  culture,  and  very  little  natural  physique  to  work 
upon,  were  friends.  There  is  no  common  pursuit,  per- 
haps, which  binds  men  more  than  this,  as  was  proved  in 
the  case;  for  Jones  and  the  curate,  in  the  matter  of  re- 
ligious dogma  and  practice,  did  not  at  all  agree.  But  they 
let  those  differences  slide,  being  the  only  two  young  men 
of  education  in  the  village,  and  played  tennis  and  golf 
together,  plodded  the  lanes  side  by  side  on  Sunday  after- 
noons, or,  if  the  curate  could  be  urged  to  such  frivolity, 
discovered  a  world  beyond  Surrey,  in  Jones'  car. 

The  curate  was  inclined  to  think  that  Jones  should  sell 
all  that  he  had, — i.  e.  the  motor, — and  follow  himself  and 
the  nearest  path  of  charity  by  presenting  the  village  with 
a  public  room.  Jones  said  he  would  think  it  over,  but  he 
had  not  proceeded  to  action  yet,  because  he  was  convinced, 
owing  to  the  curate's  dramatic  propensities,  the  room  when 
presented  would  be  used  for  theatrical  entertainments, 
and  of  those  he  could  not  in  his  heart  approve.  He  was, 
however,  righting  clear  of  his  father's  prejudices  by  de- 
grees; and  the  curate  had  some  hope  that  his  sojourn 
in  Paris  had  put  the  finishing  touch  to  the  process,  and 
that  the  room  might  yet  be  his.  He  prayed  for  this  happy 
consummation  sedulously.  When  pressed,  Jones  even 
confessed  that  he  had  attended  "  something  resembling  " 
theatrical  entertainments  in  the  French  capital:  only, — 
fortunately  for  his  understanding  with  the  curate, — he 
did  not  go  into  detail. 

The  curate,  naturally,  wanted  to  know  if  her  friends 
had  found  the  unfortunate  young  woman ;  and  Jones  said 
yes,  luckily  her  friends  had.  The  curate  said — too  late, 
he  supposed;  and  Jones  said,  well,  that  depended  how 
you  looked  at  it.  The  curate  was  rather  silent  on  receipt 
of  this  response,  and  Jones  had,  for  the  sake  of  honesty 
and  friendship,  to  trespass  a  little  further  on  Miss 
Lisette's  private  affairs,  and  explain  himself  to  Mr. 
Freshwater.  She  was  not  married,  he  said,  but  he  had 


UNDINE  287 

every  reason  to  think  she  would  be,  quite  soon;  and  she 
was  a  kind  and  beautiful  girl,  and  had  been  very  hardly 
used.  The  curate,  who  was  particular,  would  have  ac- 
cepted these  rather  incomplete  explanations  more  unre- 
servedly if  the  word  "  beautiful  "  had  not  occurred  among 
them.  However,  if  she  was  really  to  be  married,  that  was 
so  much  to  the  good, — best  thing  under  the  circumstances. 
Jones,  who  was  cleverer  than  the  curate,  and  knew  it, 
though  he  never  disclosed  his  class  at  Oxford,  said  he 
was  so  glad  Freshwater  agreed  with  him.  After  that 
they  left  the  subject,  and  talked  with  earnest  brows  of 
the  cricketing  prospects. 

During  the  interlude  while  he  resumed  these  healthy 
habits  and  rural  activities,  as  need  not  be  said,  everybody 
for  whom  Jones  had  worked  forgot  him  completely, 
always  excepting  one. 

Charles  Shovell,  acting  under  orders,  sent  him  a  line 
from  his  publishing  office,  which  missed  Jones  in  Paris, 
and  followed  him  to  Leatherhead  after  an  interval. 
Charles  had  a  particularly  pretty  fine  hand,  almost  fem- 
inine, and  for  an  instant  Jones'  heart  leapt — but  it  was 
not  so.  That  is,  it  was  so,  but  not  directly. 

"  DEAR  JONES  "  [wrote  Charles], 

"  I  don't  know  if  this  will  catch  you, — I  have  rather 
let  things  slide.  I  ought  to  have  let  you  know  sooner, 
but  my  wife's  health  has  been  causing  some  anxiety.  She 
met  us  at  Dover  with  the  doctor's  car,  so  that  was  all 
right,  and  we  got  the  girl  home  between  us  by  degrees. 
She  (L.  not  V.)  was  pea-green  at  the  port,  and  I  never 
thought  we  should  get  beyond  it;  but  my  wife  got  some 
brandy  down, — about  a  quarter  of  a  pint  before  she  had 
finished, — and  Lisette  was  cheeking  us  again  before  we 
got  to  Canterbury.  Brandy  seems  to  suit  her  nicely, — 
she  was  awfully  pleased  to  have  a  drive,  as  she  called  it, 
and  seemed  to  be  on  terms  with  the  chauffeur.  Glad  to 
say  he  sat  on  her, — nobody  else  could.  At  Canterbury  we 


288  DUKE  JONES 

got  breakfast, — Violet  had  wired  a  Dean  in  advance, — 
said  he  was  a  friend  of  her  uncle's  and  an  early  riser,  just 
her  style, — and  Lisette  drank  his  Reverence's  coffee  as 
if  she  had  been  born  to  it,  sitting  in  his  Reverence's  chair. 
Mashed  the  old  boy  awfully  too,  but  that's  by  the  way. 
I  warned  V.  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  spoons,  L.  seemed  to 
like  the  look  of  them.  However,  we  got  off  safely  without 
her  even  asking  him  for  one  as  a  keepsake.  She  is  safe 
now  in  the  hands  of  her  relations  in  Harley  Street,  and 
Dr.  Ashwin  says  after  a  rest  she  will  be  none  the  worse. 
None  the  worse! — they  must  be  a  hard  breed.  I  was 
pretty  well  done  for  myself,  I  can  tell  you,  by  the  time  we 
got  the  little  monkey  off  our  hands. 

"  I  am  told  to  make  Violet's  apologies,  but  I  prefer  to 
make  my  own.  She  would  have  replied  to  yours,  if  she 
had  ever  read  it.  I  did  what  I  thought  best,  anyhow, 
it  was  hard  enough  to  do.  Now  she  is  cut  off  writing, 
but  I  am  to  express  her  very  particular  thanks,  in  her 
name  and  that  of  her  mother's  family,  for  all  you  have 
done  for  Miss  Addenbroke.  Yours,  she  says,  is  the  only 
faultless  performance;  everybody  else  has  muckered  it 
somehow.  (Last  expression  not  hers,  but  I  translate.) 
We  hope  to  see  you  at  home  when  things  go  better;  at 
present  nobody  dares  stir  a  finger  to  excite  her  further, 
that's  the  fact.  Excuse  haste,  dashed  busy, — 
"  Yours  sincerely, 

"  CHARLES  SHOVELL." 

A  lively,  friendly,  forthcoming  letter,  and  like  the 
writer,  Jones  must  admit.  For  all  the  anxiety  into  which 
it  plunged  him,  he  was  thankful  to  have  it.  He  pored 
over  it  often,  picturing  every  stage  of  that  Canterbury 
pilgrimage  of  theirs,  pondering  Charles'  careless  phrases, 
reading  between  the  lines.  She  was  not  "  pea-green  "  at 
the  port,  possibly,  but  she  had  been  white  enough  when 
Jones  had  last  seen  her,  weeks  since,  to  cause  him  a  pass- 
ing pang.  Lisette  had  "  cheeked  "  her,  doubtless, — he 


UNDINE  289 

had  memories  of  how  she  had  done  it  in  the  train, — 
taunted  her, — tired  her  too.  Shovell  was  "  done  for  "  at 
the  end  of  the  journey,  was  he?  Well,  what  of  her? 

Of  Lisette,  the  center  of  his  best  efforts  for  so  long, 
no  further  news  for  weeks.  Then  he  was  remembered 
in  the  other  house  by  the  only  person  likely  to  remember 
him,  since,  according  to  Marmaduke's  experience,  it  is 
invariably  the  busiest  people  who  make  time  for  the 
smaller  kindnesses.  He  was  honored  by  an  autograph 
scrawl  from  the  doctor,  directed  to  him  under  his  old 
title  as  secretary  of  the  S.P.X.Z.,  and  forwarded  from 
that  society's  office,  by  his  successor,  Brown. 

"DEAR  SIR, 

"  My  daughter  pronounced  your  name  last  night, 
and  it  recalled  to  me  a  neglected  obligation.  You  have 
every  claim  to  be  kept  on  a  level  with  our  news,  after 
your  remarkable  devotion  in  Felicia's  cause.  She  gave 
birth  on  Thursday  morning  to  a  healthy  son,  and  con- 
ditions are  smiling  for  both.  She  is  recovering  fast,  im- 
patient to  see  you  and  exhibit  the  child,  but  I  stipulate 
for  a  week's  rest.  Thereafter  we  shall  be  delighted,  and 
if  you  will  name  an  hour,  I  will  try  to  fall  in  with  it.  But 
I  am  much  tied  for  the  moment,  so  in  case  of  absence, 
Ford,  who  says  he  knows  you,  has  kindly  undertaken  to 
represent  me.  Please  believe,  however,  that  I  am  anxious 
to  congratulate  you  in  person  on  a  distinguished  piece  of 
work,  amply  justified  by  results,  as  you  will  see. 
"  Yours  very  truly, 

"  CLAUDE  C.  ASHWIN." 

Again,  just  what  Jones  would  have  expected  of  the 
writer:  generous  and  gracious  and  clear, — remarkably 
clear  concerning  Lisette.  His  face  glowed  as  he  deci- 
phered it,  for  Jones  was  a  born  hero-worshiper,  and  he 
knew  more  about  this  particular  man,  on  a  side  he  did 
not  display  much  to  the  world,  than  the  bulk  of  the 


290  DUKE  JONES 

doctor's  fashionable  connection  knew.  This  was  a  recog- 
nition of  his  pains  worth  having,  worth  preserving  all 
his  life.  It  was  noteworthy  too,  in  its  resemblance  to 
another  message,  only  that  said  a  "  faultless  perform- 
ance," and  this  a  "  distinguished  piece  of  work."  The 
expressions  alike  surprised  Jones,  who  had  not  been 
conscious  of  aiming  at  artistic  finish  in  what  he  under- 
took, having  merely  "  stuck  to  it,"  in  his  phrase.  But 
father  and  daughter  evidently  suspected  him  of  native  art 
rather  than  native  obstinacy.  Jones  might  have  been  an 
actor  fresh  from  a  triumph  in  a  new  part,  to  judge  by 
the  form  of  their  compliments.  It  amused  him,  just  as 
Mrs.  Shovell  had  often  amused  him  before,  by  a  fresh 
unlikeness  to  all  his  own  gray-clad  ideals;  and  he  con- 
tinued to  turn  over  these  ornamental  Ashwin  formulas 
for  some  time  in  his  mind  before  he  returned  to  a  more 
painful  investigation. 

She  had  "  pronounced  "  his  name,  by  night. 

That  was  the  phrase  that  struck  his  heart  in  passing 
it.  Why  did  those  words,  in  a  doctor's  hand,  suggest 
at  once  the  demon-grip  of  fever,  the  utterance  that  is 
unconscious  and  uncontrolled?  Why  was  the  writer 
"  much  tied  "  for  the  moment  ?  Tied  by  what  ? — to 
whom?  Why,  knowing,  as  he  surely  must,  that  Jones 
was  acquainted  with  his  daughter,  did  he  offer  nothing,  no 
definite  reassurance  as  to  her  state, — only  Felicia's  ?  Was 
it  not  clearly  because  he  could  not,  because  he  was  himself 
under  the  stress  of  an  anxiety  like  Jones', — yet  more 
crushing,  perhaps,  since  she  was  his  only  child? 

They  would  tell  him,  Marmaduke  supposed,  if  she 
died;  that  was  all.  It  was  all  such  a  stranger  to  the 
family  could  expect.  But  it  was  wearing  suspense  wait- 
ing that  prescribed  week  to  go  to  Harley  Street  and  learn 
the  worst.  To  the  other  house,  the  little  house  in  the 
west  where  she  lay,  he  did  not  even  think  of  going,  he 
dared  not  approach  it,  pass  its  sacred  gate.  He  was 
guilty  of  flat  moral  cowardice  in  the  matter.  His  eye 


UNDINE  291 

skipped  the  first  column  of  the  morning  paper,  and  passed 
to  dwell  on  the  prospects  of  cricket,  vacantly.  The  curate 
saw  that  something  was  wrong,  when  Jones  excused  him- 
self from  tennis,  asked  him  to  tea  instead,  very  kindly, 
and  tried,  as  is  the  habit  of  black  cloth,  to  extract  by 
soothing  and  subtle  methods  his  subject  of  preoccupation. 
He  heard  that  a  "  friend," — not  a  "  fellow  "  for  once, — 
was  dangerously  ill,  no  more.  Jones'  housekeeper  ex- 
tracted that  it  was  the  wife  of  a  friend,  the  young  wife, 
— and  thought  it  "  like  his  kind  heart  "  to  take  such  an 
interest. 

Several  times  he  asked  his  conscience,  fearfully  rather, 
but  never  guiltily,  what  had  come  to  him  that  this  girl, 
casually  met  and  barely  known,  should,  beyond  all  others, 
so  possess  his  thoughts.  It  was  the  manner  in  which  he 
had  encountered  her,  he  supposed;  the  way  in  which, 
owing  to  the  chance  of  Miss  Lisette,  their  eyes  and  hands 
had  joined  as  fellow-workers  over  her  case.  Marmaduke 
had  never  worked  with  a  woman  before;  it  had  barely 
occurred  to  him  that  young  man  and  woman  could  work 
in  this  way.  It  was  the  novelty  and  natural  charm  of 
such  co-operation,  doubtless,  that  had  struck  the  impres- 
sion so  deep. 

And  then — her  situation:  it  could  not  be,  evidently, 
having  crossed  her  path  at  such  a  period,  that  he  was 
uninfluenced  by  that.  She  was  a  light,  a  torch  to  the  dull 
heart  of  man,  or  woman  either,  such  days  as  that  when 
she  had  been  drunk  with  the  sun  and  the  salt  breezes  on 
the  beach.  To  the  warmth  of  his  own  compassion  for 
her  cousin,  which  her  generous  compassion  had  stirred, 
she  had  added  a  glow  from  her  own  happiness  by  the 
way.  Jones,  during  that  memorable  journey  when  his 
pity  had  first  aroused,  had  felt  the  glow  strongest  in  him 
while  she  slept,  abandoned  to  her  husband's  arm.  Was 
that  not  dear  proof  of  the  nature  of  her  influence  upon 


292  DUKE  JONES 

him?  What  should  it  be  but  the  life-giving,  life-restoring 
ray  from  the  hearth,  the  family,  well-recognized  as  an 
inspiration  in  life  or  art?  Which  a  sensitive  heart  retains, 
— like  one  of  those  little  Rembrandt  pictures  over  which 
Jones  had  pored  in  the  palace  of  the  Louvre, — the  central 
facts  of  love  transfigured,  when  all  detail,  local  or  topical, 
has  been  blackened  out  by  time. 

Jones,  most  modest  about  his  own  experience,  had  told 
himself  several  times  that  in  that  unknown  garden  of 
girls,  London  society,  there  were  probably, — well,  pos- 
sibly,— plenty  of  others  like  her;  like  Mrs.  Shovell,  for 
he  carefully  substituted  the  name  for  the  familiar  pro- 
noun in  his  thoughts,  as  he  had  done  in  his  letter  to 
Charles,  with  the  instinct  of  personal  propriety  and  clean- 
liness which  was  Jones, — which  constituted  his  individu- 
ality so  far  as  he  possessed  one.  He  loved  her  quaint, 
soft-syllabled  name;  it  suited  her,  he  considered,  better 
than  the  man  from  whom  she  had  borrowed  it.  He  had 
not  forgotten  how  she  had  first  pronounced  it  to  him, 
just  to  make  things  easier  at  table  d'hote,  when  it  became 
clear  some  name  was  needed, — blushing  in  that  imper- 
ceptible rose-leaf  manner  of  hers,  as  though  it  were  still 
strange  to  her  lips,  and  she  were  shy  of  publishing  her 
title  to  it,  in  the  face  of  a  heartless  world.  Further,  and 
above  all,  to  Jones'  type  of  mind,  that  name  that  was 
another's  enthroned  her,  set  her  apart,  out  of  reach  of 
degrading  or  covetous  suggestions.  Perhaps  by  virtue 
of  the  double  moon  of  bliss  when  he  had  been  privileged 
to  know  her,  in  all  his  images  and  recollections,  Charles 
was  there,  just  beyond,  her  safeguard;  even  though,  in 
the  stress  of  involuntary  comparison  (which  Marmaduke 
endeavored  to  suppress),  Charles  should  drop  to  the  posi- 
tion of  a  mere  appendage,  a  pleasing  ornament, — though 
he  should  be  no  more  than  the  gold  band  on  her  finger, 
or  one  of  the  glimmering,  glinting  things  that  encircled 
her  neck,  rose  or  fell  upon  her  breast,  those  enchanted 
summer  evenings  when  Marmaduke  still  had  her  near. 


UNDINE  293 

It  is  not  credible,  it  will  be  contended,  that  a  man 
should  reach  this  state  and  not  be  conscious  that  he  was 
a  prey  to  the  old  passion,  so  over-written  and  over-sung 
that  its  naked  apparition  is  disconcerting,  all  but  un- 
hinging, to  the  virgin  mind.  It  is  by  its  terror  love  is 
known,  and  it  was  by  that  terror,  undoubtedly  of  his 
sentiments,  that  our  hero  should  have  known  it.  But 
note,  that  just  when  the  urgent  thing  began  to  stir  him 
first,  to  push  among  his  tranquil  array  of  daily  feelings, 
another  impulse  of  his  being,  almost  equally  strong,  and 
much  more  familiar,  had  begun  to  threaten  convulsion 
too.  Marmaduke  had  been  unable  to  confuse  his  love 
and  his  compassion, — love  human  and  divine.  During 
that  long  railway  journey,  which  had  been  emotion's 
battlefield,  the  first  feeling  had  ministered  to  the  second 
so  rapidly,  so  naturally,  that  it  was  easy  to  think,  looking 
back,  he  had  been  urged  throughout  his  quest  by  the 
passion  of  pity  alone. 

The  test  came  now,  when  Lisette  was  safe,  triumphant, 
protected, — when  charity,  satisfied,  fell  back  a  little, 
and  compassion  could  be  put  away.  Small  wonder  that, 
in  the  new  resulting  tumult  on  the  inner  field  of  his 
emotion,  Jones  should  be  amazed,  perturbed, — though 
still  unconvicted  by  conscience, — over  what  remained! 

IV 

He  went  to  London  by  a  carefully  chosen  train,  timed 
respectably  between  four  and  five  o'clock  on  a  chilly 
afternoon  of  early  May.  He  had  brought  the  morning 
paper  with  him,  one  which  he  had  not  read;  for  Jones 
had  a  conscience  as  regarded  newspaper  reading;  even 
though  its  result  should  merely  be  to  disqualify  a  Govern- 
ment party's  whole  policy  as  "  rotten,"  it  seemed  to  him 
worth  while.  He  took  the  "  Times,"  and  shared  it  with 
the  curate,  who  showed  a  persistent  preference  for  his 
parochial  journal  and  local  gossip,  which  daily  application 
of  the  larger  periodical  was,  according  to  Jones'  reckon- 


294  DUKE  JONES 

ing,  eventually  to  cure.  It  had  not  yet  cured  it,  but  it 
might  in  time. 

The  paper  he  held  was  the  Saturday's, — the  day  being 
Monday,  since  the  Saturday  issue  contained  a  correspond- 
ence of  interest,  which  he  had  missed.  He  did  not  read  it 
for  long,  he  watched  the  fields.  Then,  when  the  fields 
became  hatefully  overgrown  by  a  fungus-brood  of  ad- 
vertisements, when  raw-colored  factories,  and  the  rows 
of  unworthy  plastered  dwellings  which  are  London's 
claws  began  to  seize  the  country  from  his  eyes,  he  took  his 
paper  up  mechanically,  glanced  down, — and  caught  her 
name  on  the  first  page. 

With  a  thrill  such  as  he  had  never  experienced  or 
imagined,  he  recognized  it  was  in  the  first  division  of 
small  announcements,  not  the  third  he  had  so  feared. 

"  Shovell,  on  the  fourth  inst,  the  wife  of  Charles " 

That  was  three  days  since,  he  thought  mechanically, 
— Friday;  Shovell's  child  was  three  days  old.  And  he 
might  have  been  relieved  for  the  same  period  had  he 
followed  the  announcements  steadily!  His  cowardice 
served  him  right. 

All  well! — Jones  woke  to  life  again.  He  could  carry 
her  in  his  protecting  thoughts,  right  across  the  horror 
of  suffering  and  uncertainty,  of  which  he  had  not  dared 
to  think,  into  a  new  world  of  happiness,  more  exquisite 
than  honeymoon  idling  even, — the  very  best  of  all.  Jones, 
dowered  fatally  with  a  soft  heart,  all  but  cried  from  sheer 
relief  as  he  thought  of  it,  she  and  her  son, — or  daughter 
was  it  ? — son.  Shovell,  he  thought,  would  have  preferred 
a  daughter, — Jones  would  have  done  so  in  Shovell's  place, 
that  is.  But  women  had  an  amiable  weakness  for  the 
masculine,  and  he  allowed  her  that  weakness,  smiling  to 
himself.  He  did  not  allow  her  many,  but,  since  it  granted 
her  a  desire, — that. 

He  must  congratulate  the  family,  he  supposed.  That 
was  invariably  done;  and  the  chances  were  he  should 


UNDINE  295 

see  Lady  Ashwin,  since  he  was  to  see  Lisette.  That  is, 
unless  Lady  Ashwin  had  altogether  abandoned  her  young 
cousin,  for  her  young  daughter, — a  desertion  quite  to 
be  commended,  on  her  part.  It  was  a  delightful  choice 
for  her,  certainly:  two  infants,  both  charming  probably, 
— all  women  care  for  that.  Jones  had  some  curiosity  to 
see  Violet's  mother,  though  he  confessed  to  shyness  as 
well.  Lady  Ashwin  had  sounded  so  very  magnificent 
and  remote  that  evening  he  had  conversed  with  her  at 
the  telephone.  Since  then  he  had  heard  little  of  her, 
except  as  having  presented  her  daughter  with  the  Ledger 
portrait,  he  remembered;  and,  by  the  same  token,  ought 
he  not,  in  this  happy  consummation  of  everybody's  af- 
fairs, to  have  brought  that  precious  portrait  back? 

Then  he  wondered,  having  investigated  that  point 
of  conscience,  whether  he  ought  not  to  postpone  his  call 
altogether.  He  had  warned  Ford,  the  secretary,  by  a 
card,  that  he  meant  to  come;  he  had  thought  that  pre- 
caution best,  since,  with  a  young  mother,  one  cannot 
be  sure.  Some  people  might  have  found  it  strange  that 
the  young  mother  should  summon  him  at  all, — but  that 
was  just  Lisette.  Nobody  knowing  Lisette  at  all  would 
be  the  least  astonished;  even  Sir  Claude's  reference  had 
suggested  a  humorous  and  indulgent  view,  half  paternal, 
such  as  none  in  Lisette's  neighborhood,  not  even  a  great 
doctor,  could  resist.  She  had  probably  clamored  for 
"  Duke  "  instantly,  on  the  child's  arrival,  to  come  and 
see  how  well  she  had  done  it,  and  what  a  nice  baby  it  was ; 
and  the  doctor  had  been  severe  with  her,  dry  like  his 
daughter,  rather  cutting, — his  eyes  laughing,  like  his 
daughter's,  all  the  time. 

Jones'  imagination,  as  may  be  judged  by  the  speci- 
mens, was  rampant ;  but  that  was  excitement  merely.  He 
had  to  go  on  to  Harley  Street,  he  could  not  keep  away. 
Besides,  he  must  inquire.  That,  like  the  congratulating, 
was  always  done.  It  may  be  readily  deduced,  from  these 
innocent  reflections  offered  in  succession  to  the  patient 


296  DUKE  JONES 

reader,  that  such  events  as  the  present  one  had  not  often 
entered  upon  the  stage  of  Marmaduke's  life.  He  was, 
indeed,  working  on  a  single  precedent,  the  memory  of  his 
cousin's  wife's  first  child.  It  was  a  good  precedent,  both 
gratifying  and  amusing  to  reflect  upon,  because  Jones 
had  been  sponsor  to  the  little  girl,  and  still  sent  her  toys 
at  intervals.  He  remembered  all  about  it  very  well ;  and 
how  particularly  ugly  the  small  baby  had  been,  and  how 
hysterically  pleased  the  mother  had  seemed  about  it. 
He  quite  imagined  Mrs.  Shovell  would  be  more  sensible, 
though  perhaps  a  little  surprising  in  her  phraseology  on 
the  subject.  But  then,  as  her  baby  would  be  beautiful, — 
white, — as  white  as  her  own  white  pearls,  or  the  lovely 
little  neck  they  guarded — Jones  stopped  thinking  there, 
and  returned  to  Lisette.  It  was  easy  for  a  bystander  to 
rhapsodize  on  Lisette,  who  was  also  beautiful, — fair  as 
the  day. 

A  young  fellow  with  a  pleasant  though  rather  expres- 
sionless countenance, — footman  probably, — told  Jones  at 
the  door  of  the  grand  house  that  Sir  Claude  Ashwin  was 
not  at  home.  Whereupon  Jones,  distinctly  relieved, 
inquired  modestly  for  Mr.  Ford. 

"  Mr.  Jones,  sir  ?  "  returned  the  expressionless  young 
man.  "  Yes,  sir.  Mr.  Ford's  engaged  for  the  present, 
sir, — hopes  soon  to  be  free.  Very  happy  to  see  you,  sir, — 
but  would  you  care  to  see  Lady  Ashwin  first?  " 

Jones  would  naturally  care,  since  it  was  suggested  so 
respectfully,  to  follow  out  the  program  offered  him. 
On  entering,  it  struck  him  the  house  had  a  business-like 
atmosphere.  He  heard  voices  through  a  baize  door  in 
the  hall,  where  he  waited  for  five  minutes,  while  his 
escort  went  ahead  to  see  if  Lady  Ashwin  had  changed  her 
mind  about  graciously  receiving  Mr.  Jones.  That,  at 
least,  was  the  case  in  full,  though  Francis  the  footman, 
dexterous  discretion  personified,  stopped  short  in  stating 
the  case  at  the  word  "  see."  The  hall  was  well  but  con- 


UNDINE  297 

ventionally  furnished,  and,  owing  to  the  dim  light,  rather 
solemn.  The  men's  voices  Jones  heard  were  discussing 
rapidly  and  keenly,  though  low,  and  he  thought  he  recog- 
nized that  of  his  unknown  friend  the  secretary.  "  Busi- 
ness," once  more,  spread  its  grave  atmosphere  abroad ;  it 
was  one  Jones  was  accustomed  to  breathe,  and  approved. 

But  upstairs,  things  changed.  Things  underwent  a 
miraculous  transformation, — even  on  the  stairs  it  began, 
for  they  were  spaciously  designed,  and  softly  carpeted. 
Business  sank  into  the  background,  faded,  vanished  away. 
Jones  tried  to  imagine  Mrs.  Shovell  flying  up  these  stairs, 
and  just  succeeded,  but  her  spirit  seemed  strangely  lack- 
ing in  this  luxurious  quarter  of  the  house.  He  followed 
Francis  up  more  soft  steps,  along  soft  passages,  to  a  door, 
which  the  footman  opened,  all  his  dexterity  and  discretion 
seeming  to  concentrate  in  the  single  action  of  turning 
the  handle. 

"  Mr.  Jones,  my  lady,"  said  Francis,  and  let  in  Mr. 
Jones,  all  unprepared  and  in  his  ordinary  clothes,  upon 
the  Golden  Age. 

Not  that  he  called  it  that  consciously,  but  the  effect 
was  the  same  upon  his  mind.  Everything,  time  and  all, 
slid  back  into  a  simpler,  sunnier  period.  It  was  merely 
two  beautiful  women,  and  the  child  of  one, — but  they 
were  all  Ingestres,  to  the  smallest,  and  so  the  ensemble 
they  made  touched  perfection.  Nothing — unless  Titian 
endeavoring  to  be  devout,  and  in  a  purely  pagan  revel 
of  rich  color,  failing  utterly — could  have  rendered  the 
group  worthily  to  an  admiring  world.  St.  Anne  and 
the  Maid-mother,  according  to  Titian,  might  have  equaled 
it;  and  since  no  devotion  would  have  been  expressed, 
there  can  be  no  offense  in  the  comparison. 

The  setting  was  beautiful,  to  begin  with:  it  was  quite 
the  most  charming  and  comfortable  room  Jones  had  ever 
seen;  even  Mrs.  Shovell's  drawing-room,  hitherto  his 
ideal,  paled  before  it.  He  had  no  idea  how  the  effect 
was  worked,  not  being  either  an  artist  or  an  upholsterer, 


298  DUKE  JONES 

— but  the  general  background  tone  was  blue.  Blue  was 
Eveleen's  color,  a  certain  thick  cloud-blue,  not  Violet's 
clear  tint  of  the  twilight  sky;  and  her  color  grew  into 
her  surroundings,  as  into  her  dress,  with  no  conscious 
determination  on  her  part.  As  a  fact,  Claude  had  dressed 
this  room  for  her,  "  ages  "  since, — Eveleen  reckoned  all 
time  by  "  ages," — and  she  had  only  improved,  refurbished, 
and  added  to  it.  She  had  filched  most  of  her  paintings 
from  Claude's  collection, — he  had  snatched  back  one  or 
two, — but  as  water-color  painting  was  one  of  the  few 
tastes  they  had  in  common  the  warfare  had  been  agree- 
able. Some  of  the  best  remained  with  Eveleen,  since 
Claude  himself  admitted  they  suited  the  room.  There 
were  a  few  flowers,  the  flowers  of  summer  or  summer 
lands  without  exception,  though  conditions  were  still 
wintry  out-of-doors.  A  mass  of  white  roses  in  a  glass 
stood  near  Lisette.  There  were  a  few  portraits,  minia- 
tures, and  photographs.  Jones,  with  his  commonplace 
middle-class  instincts,  was  a  little  surprised  that  neither 
husband  nor  daughter  figured,  so  far  as  a  discreet  eye 
could  discover,  among  the  family  represented.  But,  how- 
ever regrettable  this  omission,  there  was  certainly  a 
large  proportion  of  handsome  people. 

The  Ledger  miniature  was  not  there, — but  then, 
Ledger's  model  was,  and  nobody  would  have  had  eyes  to 
spare  for  a  portrait.  Yet,  glorified  as  she  was  in  beauty, 
the  first  thing  that  struck  Marmaduke  in  Felicia  was  that 
she  was  different.  Something,  some  essence  in  her,  had 
altered.  It  was  inexplicable,  like  the  beauty  of  the  room. 
One  more  ready  in  expression  would  have  said  that 
Lisette  had  materialized, — with  no  depreciatory  signifi- 
cance. She  was  certainly  as  real  now  as  she  was  lovely, 
full  to  the  brim  of  rapture,  life  and  wickedness.  She 
teased  Jones  instantly  on  his  apparition,  even  in  intro- 
ducing him  to  her  cousin,  drawing  him  into  the  family 
group  by  tone  and  pretty  gesture,  though  she  did  not  stir. 
Her  free  treatment  of  Lady  Ashwin  really  paralyzed 


UNDINE  299 

the  visitor  who  looked  on  at  it;  but,  oddly  enough,  Lady 
Ashwin  seemed  to  like  it,  or  at  least,  showed  no  signs  of 
disapproving.  She  lay  in  a  low  chair,  her  head  sidelong 
upon  a  velvet  cushion,  idly  watching  mother  and  child. 
She  was  dressed  in  loose  draperies,  as  was  Lisette;  with 
sleeves  that  slipped  above  the  elbow  at  every  movement, 
leaving  their  beautiful  arms  bare.  They  were  both  in 
varieties  of  white,  into  the  infinite  details  of  which  Jones 
dared  not  enter,  except  to  mark  that  Lisette's  was  thin 
white,  her  rosy  tints  glowing  through,  and  Lady  Ashwin's 
was  thick,  as  became  maturity.  But,  mature  or  no,  she 
was  so  elegant  in  form,  and  untroubled  of  aspect,  as  to 
astound  Jones,  who  would  certainly  never  have  conceived 
her,  at  sight,  a  grandmother.  Indeed  he  could,  while  he 
watched  her  in  shy  flashes,  in  the  intervals  of  Lisette's 
demands  upon  him,  have  laughed  at  the  idea. 

They  both,  though  pleased  to  see  Jones,  as  they  assured 
him,  had  an  agreeable  manner  of  ignoring  his  presence, 
in  what  they  said.  He  felt  very  much  like  the  spectator 
of  some  scene  almost  too  intimate  and  too  exquisite  to 
be  watched.  It  was  only,  it  seemed,  that  they  were  both 
very  happy,  perfectly  contented  and  amused,  and  were 
not  inclined  to  put  themselves  out  to  entertain  the  visitor, 
since  all  life  was  such  a  liberal  entertainment. 

Lisette  was  amused  by  the  baby, — immensely.  She 
was,  when  she  could  spare  a  minute  from  this  overmaster- 
ing and  novel  diversion,  passingly  amused  by  Jones.  She 
was  perfectly  at  ease,  displaying  herself  and  her  infant 
before  him,  and  glanced  at  him  in  a  friendly  and  confi- 
dential way  from  time  to  time.  "  Don't  you  wish  he 
was  yours  ?  "  said  Lisette's  look,  and  Jones  very  nearly 
did. 

Eveleen  was  amused  by  Lisette, — vastly;  and  by  the 
shameless  way  in  which,  armed  with  her  baby  and  her 
beauty,  she  faced  the  outraged  world.  There  was  no 
further  question  now  about  the  other  parent, — that  ques- 
tion had  vanished.  This  baby  was  Lisette's.  He  was  her 


300  DUKE  JONES 

business  only,  nobody  else  need  interfere,  since  she  knew 
all  about  it.  She  knew  better  than  her  cousin,  contemp- 
tuously; indeed,  Eveleen's  criticisms  were  a  little  vague. 
She  knew  so  much  better  than  the  nurse,  that  the  nurse 
gave  notice,  instantly,  and  was  not  replaced.  She  knew 
a  good  deal  better  than  Sir  Claude,  telling  him  with  con- 
descension what  to  think  about  various  little  matters ;  and 
Claude  accepted  most  of  her  suggestions,  since  she  was 
so  astonishingly  well,  obviously,  as  to  put  all  the  common 
reckonings  out.  The  baby  was  in  her  arms  at  this  moment, 
competently  held,  and,  as  was  evident,  generously  nour- 
ished. She  made  her  little  private  grimaces  downward, 
in  the  direction  of  its  eager  little  hands  and  mouth. 

"  Going  to  grow  up  greedy,  like  me,"  she  confided  to 
Eveleen.  "  No  hope  for  him."  She  gathered  her  son 
more  closely  to  her  breast. 

"  He's  an  Ingestre,"  said  Eveleen,  gazing  at  the  child's 
fine  limbs.  "  In  twelve  years, — perhaps  fourteen, — I 
shall  be  sorry  for  you,  Felicia.  About  then  it  will  begin." 

"  It  won't,"  said  Lisette.  "  We'll  see  who's  mistress, 
him  or  me."  She  wrinkled  her  nose  with  a  little  sniff, 
lying  back  in  her  low  chair.  "  I'm  glad  he's  a  boy,"  she 
said.  "  I  wouldn't  have  cared  for  a  girl,  no  fun.  Wouldn't 
you  have  liked  a  boy  as  well  as  Violet  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Eveleen,  examining  the  screen  she  held, 
"  I  should  not.  Instead  of  her,  perhaps,  but  even  so, 
I  doubt  it.  It  would  have  been  more  bother  than  the 
girl." 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Lisette,  with  a  laugh,  glanc- 
ing at  Jones.  "  I  expect  the  girl  gave  in  to  you  a  bit ;  she 
did  to  me.  She  tickles  you  up  with  the  things  she  says, 
but  her  eyes  are  good-natured  all  the  time, — aren't  they  ?  " 
She  appealed  beyond.  "  I  like  Violet's  eyes,"  she  informed 
Eveleen.  "  So  does  he," — nodding  to  Jones, — "  I  asked 
him  once." 

"  He  couldn't  have  said  he  didn't,  if  you  asked,"  said 
Lady  Ashwin. 


UNDINE  301 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  could,"  returned  Lisette.  "  He's  not  that 
sort  of  man." 

These  calm  contradictions  were  what  amused  Eveleen. 
The  girl  was  quite  unable  to  offend  her,  and  suited  her 
at  all  points  singularly  well.  She  had  even  regretted, 
several  times,  since  Lisette  appeared  among  them,  that 
she  had  not  taken  the  child  Violet's  suggestion  originally, 
and  had  her  in  the  house  all  this  time.  Only,  to  be  sure, 
in  that  case,  there  would  not  have  been  a  baby  to  complete 
the  picture;  and  the  general  scandalous  absurdity  of  the 
situation,  which  suited  Eveleen's  sardonic  humor  so 
perfectly,  would  have  been  wanting. 

Jones,  of  course,  had  his  opportunity,  at  this,  the  first 
introduction  of  Mrs.  ShovelFs  name.  The  congratulation 
and  the  inquiry,  both  on  his  lips,  would  have  been  in 
place,  could  he  only  venture  to  speak  them;  but  he  felt 
shy.  Something  seemed  vaguely  to  forbid  the  subject, 
or  hold  it  at  arm's  length,  even  while  they  talked,  using 
Violet's  name.  It  puzzled  him  at  first, — until  Felicia 
herself  enlightened  him,  and  then  he  was  only  thankful 
he  had  not  plunged  too  rashly. 

"  I  am  going  to  show  him  to  Violet  to-morrow,"  ob- 
served Lisette  carelessly,  when  she  had  concluded  her 
exhibition  of  the  baby,  in  detail,  to  Jones.  "  She  hasn't 
seen  him  yet, — not  been  well.  Not  ever  since  I  gave  her 
such  a  time  of  it  in  the  carriage.  Rank  luck  on  her,  isn't 
it?  Now  she'll  be  the  last.  Even  you  got  in  before  her, 
little  man.  To-morrow  she's  coming,  Cousin  Eveleen 
said." 

"  I  said,  possibly,"  said  Eveleen. 

That  was  it,  then!  This  girl-mother  was  still  fragile, 
for  all  her  looks ;  and  the  other  mother,  admirably  careful, 
had  not  broken  to  her  the  news  of  her  daughter's  parallel 
case,  which  had  doubtless  caused  more  intimate  anxiety. 
Lisette  did  not  know  of  the  existence,  had  not  grasped 
the  advent  even,  of  the  other  child.  Jones,  watching 
Lady  Ashwin's  calmly-leveled  eyes,  was  rather  glad  he 


302  DUKE  JONES 

had  not  spoken,  since  the  scheme  was  evidently  hers.  It 
was  an  escape;  for  it  slipped  into  his  mind  that  Lady 
Ashwin  could,  at  need,  become  formidable.  It  was  hard 
to  say  how  he  gathered  it,  from  her  perfectly  tranquil 
attitude.  He  asked  Lisette  if  Charles  had  seen  the  baby, 
and  Lisette  assented,  making  a  face.  A  week  since  Charles 
had  had  a  look  at  it  in  passing,  and  had  proved  himself 
quite  unworthy  of  the  privilege.  He  had  seemed  to  think 
it  like  any  other  child.  Jones  smiled  to  himself,  picturing 
Shovell's  present  expression,  in  a  like  situation.  His  mind 
kept  traveling  to  the  other  and  smaller  house,  since  the 
ladies  allowed  him  leisure  for  such  excursions  by  their 
interludes  of  private  talk. 

"  I  shall  have  to  go  soon,"  the  mistress  of  the  house 
observed,  as  the  small  clock  chimed  above  her ;  so  saying, 
she  settled  a  little  lower  in  her  chair.  "  If  I  go,  that  is ; 
perhaps  I  won't." 

"  You  said  that  before,"  said  Lisette.  "  You'll  go  on 
saying  it  till  Joliffe  calls,  and  then  none  of  us  could  stop 
you  if  we  tried.  You're  a  bit  like  Honoria  in  some  things, 
putting  it  on.  You're  keen  to  get  into  that  dress  and  your 
diamonds  really." 

"  I  am  not,  the  least,"  said  Lady  Ashwin,  quite  child- 
ishly. "  I'd  sooner  stop  here." 

Felicia  ignored  her,  and  looked  at  Jones.  "  You  can 
stay  with  me  when  she  goes  to  dress, — see?  She'll  go 
soon,  'cause  she  knows  she's  got  to.  It  takes  time,  even 
with  two  of  'em  at  it.  She's  got  a  maid — French.  She 
says  I  ought  to  have  one  too.  Likely,  isn't  it?  Likely 
I'd  want  a  maid  to  tumble  over, — bad  as  that  nurse. 
Great  Scott,  that  nurse!  Didn't  know  where  to  look 
when  I'd  done  with  her,  stuck-up  thing.  I  say,  Duke, — 
you're  not  going  ?  " 

Lady  Ashwin,  still  with  a  nonchalant  air,  had  risen 
in  two  stages,  both  very  graceful,  from  her  chair,  and  was 
regarding  herself  in  the  mirror  over  the  fire-place,  and 
patting  her  disordered  hair  with  one  white  hand.  Jones 


UNDINE  303 

rose  too,  half  in  respect,  since  when  she  was  up  he  could 
not  well  remain  seated ;  half  with  an  idea  of  following  her, 
at  least  for  an  instant,  when  she  left  the  room,  and  so 
getting  a  chance  to  address  her  privately.  He  felt  he  must 
ask,  hear  something.  They  would  hardly  think  him  well- 
bred  without.  She  surely  could  not  be  surprised  that  he 
should  show  that  much  interest  in  the  daughter  of  the 
house,  for  all  his  supposed  exclusive  devotion  to  her 
cousin.  But  Eveleen  discomposed  his  plans  by  not  pro- 
ceeding on  her  way  to  dress.  On  the  contrary,  she  leant 
one  arm  on  the  mantelpiece  and  waited,  looking  towards 
Lisette. 

"  It's  a  swell  house,"  said  Lisette ;  "  a  duke's, — friend 
of  yours."  She  wrinkled  her  charming  nose  at  Jones. 
"  She's  got  a  dress  like  you  never  saw.  I  should  say  going 
a  bit  far,  but  she  says  that's  the  style.  It's  the  stage 
is  doing  it,  I  saw  that  in  Paris, — knocking  out  people's 
eye  for  color, — as  if  the  stage  could  be  like  a  room! 
Why,  the  flesh-tints  are  quite  different  in  a  room  1  I  told 
her  so,  but  she  won't  change  it.  Backs  herself  to  carry 
it,  you  know." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Eveleen  tranquilly. 

"  She  wants  to  smash  somebody  to-night,"  said  Lisette. 
"  That's  the  fact, — we  won't  ask  who.  Your  friend,  per- 
haps,— if  he  isn't  too  old.  Did  you  know  she " 

At  that  point  of  Lisette's  chatter,  which  was  the  kind 
of  chatter  Lady  Ashwin  understood  and  appreciated, 
Francis,  the  footman,  reappeared. 

He  entered  dexterously  and  discreetly,  as  before,  but 
the  mask  of  his  impassive  face  had  changed.  There  was 
human  emotion  in  it,  quite  perceptible.  It  was  a  man 
who  entered,  to  Jones'  eye, — a  rather  apprehensive  young 
man,  endeavoring  to  remain  a  footman  merely. 

"  Mr.  Shovell,  my  lady,"  he  said. 

Eveleen  did  not  shift  her  eyes  from  Lisette,  though 
she  left  a  pause,  as  usual. 

"  Very  well, — bring  him  up,"  she  replied. 


304  DUKE  JONES 

"  Mr.  Shovell  is  downstairs,  my  lady, — would  be  glad 
to  speak  to  you."  Francis  repeated  a  message,  clearly. 
"  He  is  sorry,  but  he's  in  a  hurry.  He  is  downstairs  with 
Mr.  Ford." 

"  I  heard,"  said  Eveleen.  "  I  can't  come  down  like  this, 
can  I  ? — I'm  half-dressed.  Ask  Mr.  Shovell  to  come  here, 
if  he  wants  me." 

Francis  hesitated,  looked  at  Miss  Addenbroke,  and 
opened  his  mouth  again ;  then,  crushed  by  a  glance  from 
his  mistress,  departed.  The  trio  in  the  room  remained  as 
they  were,  Lisette  deeply  engaged  by  the  baby,  which 
was  just  falling  asleep  in  a  fascinating  manner;  Eveleen 
rigid,  her  fine  mouth  slightly  set.  Jones,  disconcerted  by 
her  obstinate  pose,  as  though  she  occupied  an  entrench- 
ment, and  had  no  intention  of  abandoning  it,  had  taken 
a  seat  again,  though  uncertainly. 

Silence  sank,  the  little  clock  ticking  away  Lady  Ash- 
win's  minutes,  nothing  stirring  in  the  room.  Then  there 
were  quick  firm  steps  along  the  corridor,  the  rapid  hand 
of  business, — Jones  recognized  it — on  the  latch,  and  the 
secretary  Ford  entered  in  his  turn.  Jones  guessed  him 
easily,  since  it  was  a  young  man  of  Charles'  sort,  but  not 
Charles.  Marmaduke  himself  rose  quietly  and  promptly 
to  his  feet  again,  for  he  knew  trouble  when  he  saw  it  if 
Lady  Ashwin  did  not.  He  had  scented  it  vaguely  in  the 
footman's  aspect, — now  it  stood  before  them  personified ; 
and  the  Golden  Age  cracked  about  their  heads.  Sir 
Claude's  secretary  and  he  joined  hands  in  mute  recogni- 
tion, though  Ford's  face  did  not  relax.  He  was  pale,  and 
his  lip  bitten  before  he  spoke. 

"  Shovell  had  to  go,  Lady  Ashwin,"  he  said.  "  He  left 
word  for  you,  that's  all, — if  I  may  ask  you  to  come  a 
minute."  He  held  the  door  still  open  behind  him  with 
his  hand. 

"  He  might  have  come  up,"  said  Eveleen.  Her  hand 
gripped  the  mantel-shelf,  quite  visibly. 

"  He  couldn't,"  said  Ford.     For  an  instant  their  eyes 


UNDINE  305 

crossed,  and  there  was  battle  in  both.  "  I  was  asked  to 
make  his  apologies.  Might  I  ask  you  to  come  out ?  " 

But  no,  Mr.  Ford  might  not.  Eveleen's  whole  attitude 
sullenly  combated  such  pretensions.  No  mere  secretary 
should  presume  to  move  her  from  where  she  stood. 

"  Is  the  child  worse  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Dying."  Ford  gave  in,  and  his  voice  broke  its  guard. 
"  That's  the  message.  Can't  live  through  the  night." 

"  Violet  ?  "  said  a  soft,  vacant  voice  beyond.  Lisette, 
clasping  her  baby,  had  turned  her  strange  eyes  upon  the 
messenger. 

"  No, — no !  Oh,  tell  her,  Jones,  for  Lord's  sake.  I 
can't."  The  young  man,  suddenly  overcome,  swerved 
aside.  "  It  shouldn't  have  been  here,  of  course, — any- 
where else,"  he  muttered. 

"  The  baby  is  dying,"  Jones  interpreted,  as  Felicia 
turned  her  frightened  eyes  to  him.  "  Your  cousin  has  a 
little  baby  too,  born  three  days  ago.  I  think  they  didn't 
tell  you." 

"  Three  days  ?  "  The  child,  too  tightly  clasped,  began 
to  whimper.  The  mother  was  gasping  slightly.  "  Does 
Violet— know?" 

Hubert  Ford's  head  was  turned  from  them,  bowed 
on  his  hand ;  but  he  shook  it,  and  Jones  interpreted. 

"  She  doesn't  know, — she  is  too  ill,  much  too  ill  to  be 
told  anything." 

"Dying?" 

"  No,  no, — please  God.  Don't  be  frightened,  my 
dear." 

"How  dare  you  frighten  her?"  said  Eveleen  sharply. 
"  You  had  better  go,  all  of  you.  There  is  no  sense  in 
coming  to  disturb  her.  If  Violet  has  fussed  that  child 
to  death,  it  is  not  her  affair, — what  did  you  say  ?  " — to 
the  secretary,  who,  without  stirring  from  his  pose,  had 
spoken  one  word.  He  did  not  repeat  it,  and  blank  silence 
descended.  But  it  seemed  to  echo  on  the  silence, — 
shame ! 


306  DUKE  JONES 

"  Why  didn't  the  boy  come  up  ?  "  Lady  Ashwin  broke 
the  silence,  her  fury, — a  singular  white  fury, — mounting 
steadily.  "  He  ought  to  have  come  straight,  he  knows  it, 
— such  nonsense !  " 

"  He  couldn't,"  Ford  doggedly  repeated. 

"  Couldn't  come  up  the  stairs  ?  " 

"  No.  .  .  .  Shovell's  dead  beat.  They  only  sent 
him  round  because  nobody  else  could  be  spared." 

"  They  needn't  have  troubled,"  said  Eveleen.  "  I  could 
have  told  them  a  week  ago  how  it  would  be.  Is  Shovell 
vexed  ?  " — a  typical  Ingestre  query,  put  mechanically. 

"Vexed?    He's  in  agony, — will  be  till  she  is  safe." 

Another  electric  pause  in  this  alarming  dialogue. 
Lisette  had  collapsed  backward,  pallid,  into  her  chair, 
attending  to  her  child  again  with  shaking  little  fingers. 
She  looked  ill,  but  nobody  heeded  her,  not  even  Jones. 
Jones  could  hardly  interview  his  own  feelings,  for  sheer 
dread  of  something  happening  between  these  two.  They 
had  met,  doubtless,  on  the  question  before,  during  the 
past  week  of  strain.  Eveleen's  smile,  at  the  last  answer, 
would  have  hastened  a  crisis  had  Ford  seen  it,  but  he 
did  not.  The  smile  passed,  and  another  expression  took 
its  place.  Her  tone  was  lowered  too,  when  she  spoke: 
less  certain,  by  many  degrees. 

"Where's  Claude?" 

"  With  her.  The  fools  have  let  him  go  to  her  at  last." 

"  He  wasn't  attending  her,"  said  the  doctor's  wife. 
"  They've  all  been  wrangling,  I  suppose.  Is  Angus 
gone?"  (That  was  the  specialist,  Jones  learnt  after- 
wards. )  "  Then  he  will  not  be  back  to-night, — Claude, 
I  mean.  Not  to  dinner,  anyhow." 

She  seemed  speaking  for  her  own  reassurance,  rather 
than  questioning  him. 

"  Really,  I  can't  tell  you,  Lady  Ashwin,"  said  young 
Ford,  lifting  his  head,  and  turning  towards  her,  as  though 
at  bay.  "  Shovell  might  have  known.  I  did  not  examine 
him  in  detail,  I  admit  it." 


UNDINE  307 

"  Bah,"  said  Eveleen,  turning  a  little  away,  to  escape 
the  contempt  of  his  eyes.  "  They  never  know  anything 
about  it,  men  like  that.  He  didn't  want  to  be  asked, 
probably:  that's  why  he  turned  tail."  Ford,  a  man  like 
Charles,  was  silent.  "Francis, — are  you  still  there?" 
Francis  was,  apparently,  hovering  just  without  the  door, 
with  a  stricken  face.  "  You  needn't  wait  about  like  that," 
said  his  mistress.  "  I  suppose  Joliffe  got  my  message. 
Has  he  come  back?" 

"  Joliffe's  there,  my  lady,"  stammered  Francis,  his  eyes 
turning  to  Ford,  as  though  for  help. 

"  Well,  tell  him  eight-thirty  for  Elkington  House.  No 
mistake,  do  you  hear?  And  tell  Mason,  dinner  early. 
And  I'm  ready  for  Leontine  at  once, — I  want  her  here 
for  Miss  Addenbroke.  That's  all." 

Francis,  after  one  helpless  look  about  him  at  the  circle, 
went. 

How  Jones  got  away  from  the  room  he  hardly  knew. 
Lady  Ashwin,  attending  to  Lisette,  did  not  notice  him 
again,  or  appear  to  be  aware  of  his  existence, — not  that 
he  could  have  found  anything  to  say  to  her.  Lisette, 
piteously  white  and  languid,  gasped  his  name  after  him, 
but  even  for  her  he  could  not,  dared  not,  wait.  He  fol- 
lowed Ford,  since  man  clings  to  man  in  these  emer- 
gencies. All  the  world  had  changed  for  Jones, — he  could 
not  imagine  now  how  he  had  taken  so  much  for  granted. 
Without,  the  sublime  calm  of  the  great  house  was  broken, 
shivered  in  all  directions.  As  they  passed  the  head  of 
the  staircase,  two  maids,  conversing  in  undertones,  sep- 
arated. Both  were  weeping, — it  was  a  house  of  mourn- 
ing beyond  the  sanctuary  of  its  mistress.  One  of  the 
young  women  appealed  anxiously  to  Ford,  who  stopped 
to  listen  to  her  question.  He  was  treated  by  all  much  like 
a  son  of  the  house,  with  a  slight  difference :  a  difference 
of  more,  not  less,  respect,  since  he  was  Sir  Claude's  con- 
fidante and  representative. 

"  I  can't  tell  you,  Edith,  I'm  sorry,"  were  the  finishing 


308  DUKE  JONES 

words  Jones  caught.  "  Mr.  Shovell  couldn't  talk  of  it. 
We  shall  none  of  us  know  till  the  doctor  comes,  prob- 
ably." And  they  went  on  down  the  last  flight,  and 
through  the  swing  door  to  the  peace  of  Dr.  Ashwin's 
little  study.  That  was  the  quarter  where  Jones,  on  enter- 
ing the  house,  had  heard  the  voices  that  should  have 
warned  him,  in  his  flattering  dreams,  of  tragedy. 


Ford  begged  him  to  be  seated,  but  there  was  barely 
any  chance  of  a  tete-a-tete.  They  went  out  of  the  back- 
water now,  with  a  vengeance,  and  in  the  very  vortex 
of  the  great  doctor's  affairs.  The  telephone  bell  went 
incessantly;  all  London,  Jones  would  have  said,  was 
engaged  in  ringing  up  Sir  Claude. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Ford  blandly  to  Jones,  at  intervals. 
"  This  is  the  way  it  goes  on  all  day.  I've  perjured 
myself  up  to  the  eyes  in  excuses  for  him  for  a  week 
past,  and  now  it's  going  to  be  worse.  He  says  he  can't, — 
or  he  won't,  more  commonly, — and  I  have  to  find  them 
pretty  reasons.  Nearly  all  women,  you  know, — that  makes 
it  worse.  They  can't  understand  being  neglected.  But  if  it's 
a  fact  Angus  has  handed  the  case  to  him — Well, 
Francis  ?  " 

Having  got  clear  of  the  telephone,  just  as  Mr.  Ford 
was  settling  in  his  chair  for  a  well-earned  rest,  came  a 
knock. 

"  Please,  sir,"  said  Jones'  acquaintance,  the  young 
footman,  "  would  you  mind  going  to  Lady  Ashwin  about 
it?  Joliffe  won't." 

"  Good  Lord,"  groaned  Ford,  "  here's  revolution ! 
What  next  ?  "  He  got  up  once  more  to  face  the  new 
complication.  "  Nonsense,  Francis.  Joliffe  must,  if 
Lady  Ashwin  wishes  it." 

"  He  won't,  sir,"  said  Francis.  "  Joliffe  says,  Mrs. 
Gibbs  said  Sir  Claude  might  want  him,  any  time  up  to 
midnight, — and  he  won't." 


UNDINE  309 

"  That's  Shovell's  mother, — she's  down  there,"  Ford 
mentioned  aside  for  Jones'  benefit.  He  stood  considering 
a  second.  "  Joliffe  must  manage  something,"  he  said  with 
finality.  "  It's  absurd,  with  two  cars,  you  know.  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  have  to  see  him."  He  turned  back  to  the 
man :  "  Did  you  give  Lady  Ashwin's  other  messages, — 
about  dinner  and  so  on  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  Mason's  not  there,"  said  Francis,  looking 
ever  more  sheepish  and  less  like  a  footman  as  he  pro- 
ceeded. "  Miss  Violet  needs  careful  feeding,  sir,  and  Miss 
Violet's  Alison  is  not  quite  up  to  it,  Mason  said.  Knowing, 
since  she  taught  her,  sir.  So  she  took  some  wine  and 
cream,  and  Joliffe  took  her  down  there  at  five  o'clock. 
Probably  Mason  meant  to  return,  sir,"  he  added,  with  an 
effort  in  excuse,  "  but  she's  not." 

"Do  you  mean  we  are  to  get  no  dinner?"  said  Mr. 
Ford,  gazing  upon  him  with  a  humorously  hopeless  ex- 
pression, suggesting  that  he  was  quite  prepared  for  the 
worst.  He  knew  these  old  servants. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  Francis  vaguely.  "  They 
can  manage  something  downstairs,  I  expect." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  said  Ford,  after  a  pause.  Francis  con- 
sidered. 

"  There's  Leontine,  sir ;  she's  nearly  off  her  head  in 
the  servants'  hall.  I  don't  know  if  you  could " 

"  No,"  said  Ford  with  energy.  "  I  won't  tackle  a  hys- 
terical Frenchwoman,  anyhow.  I  draw  the  line.  I've 
often  been  doubtful,  Francis,  as  to  what  my  job  really  is 
in  this  house,  but  I'm  sure  that  doesn't  come  under  it. 
Leontine  must  speak  to  Lady  Ashwin  herself." 

"  She  will,  sir,"  confided  Francis.  "  That's  it,  if  you 
understand  me.  That's  what  we're  afraid  of,  if  she  once 
goes  up.  And  Mason's  not  there  to  manage  her.  She 
can't  stop  herself  easy,  Leontine.  She's  using  awful 
terms,  sir,  in  her  language." 

"Vive  la  France!"  said  Ford  beneath  his  breath. 
"  She'll  say  some  of  it."  The  hand  by  his  side  was 


3io  DUKE  JONES 

clenched,  Jones  saw,  and  he  looked  elated.  Ford  had  had 
to  look  on  at  much  in  that  house,  both  in  the  new  times 
and  the  old,  and  he  had  suffered  himself  from  Eveleen's 
insolence.  "  Very  good,"  he  said  to  Francis.  "  Leontine 
must  take  her  risks.  Her  law's  not  ours,  or  barely.  Send 
Joliffe  along  here,  will  you,  if  he  can  leave  the  car? — 
though  it's  little  good,"  he  added  to  Jones,  as  Francis  shut 
the  door.  "  We're  in  for  it,  if  Joliffe  leads  the  way.  De- 
termination's not  the  word  for  Joliffe ;  he's  bedrock  ob- 
stinacy when  he  likes.  .  .  .  They  worship  Mrs. 
Shovell,  the  whole  gang  of  them,"  he  added,  in  elucida- 
tion of  the  politics  this  comparative  stranger,  perforce, 
was  studying. 

It  was  not  necessary  to  tell  Jones  that, — and  yet  he 
loved  to  hear  it.  He  had  discovered  her  at  last  in  the 
atmosphere  that  had  so  blankly  lacked  her  presence. 
He  only  needed  to  plunge  through  the  upper  layers  to 
find  her  at  every  turn.  She  was  even  in  this  room,  in 
bridal  clothes,  on  the  chimney-piece,  ousting  her  mother, 
or  at  least  claiming  a  place  from  her,  in  a  like  array.  The 
larger  portrait  was  framed,  a  permanency,  hanging 
against  the  wall ;  the  smaller,  in  the  softer  tinting  of  mod- 
ern photography,  was  leaning  un framed  against  it,  sug- 
gesting a  recent  acquisition,  still  handled  by  a  proud 
father,  and  handed  about  to  a  curious  world.  Jones'  eyes 
were  on  the  faces,  comparing  them,  during  much  of  the 
ensuing  dialogue. 

"  Joliffe — look  here !  Can't  you  do  it  ?  "  Young  Ford, 
sitting  down  upon  the  table,  adopted  a  new  manner, 
friendly  almost,  and  somewhat  appealing.  "  Elkington 
House  is  no  distance,  and  you  can  come  back  in  be- 
tween." 

"  I  can't  help  it,  sir,"  said  Joliffe,  in  the  tone  of  conde- 
scending explanation  to  an  ignorant  world.  "  Orders' 
orders,  you  see,  sir.  I  was  told  to  wait." 

"  It  wasn't  Sir  Claude  told  you." 


UNDINE  311 

"  It  was  Mrs.  Gibbs,"  said  Joliffe,  "  and  she,  knows 
what  she  says.  Mrs.  Gibbs  has  managed  all  the  doctors, 
first  and  last." 

"You  don't  draw  your  salary  from  Mrs.  Gibbs, — come 
now,"  said  Ford. 

"  I  do  not,  sir,"  said  Joliffe  gravely.  "  But  the  ques- 
tion, to  my  mind,  hardly  enters  the  case." 

"  I  merely  mean,  Lady  Ashwin's  orders  are  orders 
too." 

A  pause,  while  Joliffe  looked  tolerant  of  this  quibbling, 
on  the  part  of  young  Mr.  Ford.  Joliffe's  duty,  as  the 
secretary  well  knew,  was  not  to  her  ladyship  but  to  the 
doctor. 

"  There's  the  other  car,"  remarked  Ford. 

"  There  is,"  said  Joliffe.  "  But  if  you  imagine  Lady 
Ashwin  will  be  seen  at  the  door  of  Elkington  House  in 
the  other  car,  I  must  undeceive  you." 

"  Well,  you  could  have  it,  couldn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  could  not,  Mr.  Ford,  excuse  me,  since  it  might  be  a 
question  of  speed.  Sir  Milford  Angus  lives  some  way 
out,  and  if  they  should  want  him  again  after  the  offices 
shut " 

"  Pray  heaven  they  won't,"  said  Hubert  involuntarily. 

"  Heaven  or  no,  I'd  sooner  have  .the  car  ready,"  said 
Joliffe.  "  After  the  week  we've  had,  we're  not  so  sure 
of  heaven  as  that."  Joliffe  reckoned  himself  in  among 
the  doctors,  evidently.  "  Anyhow,  I'm  not  taking  her 
out  to-night,"  he  added  simply.  "  Sir  Claude  wouldn't 
like  it." 

"  It's  not  your  place  to  say  what  Sir  Claude  would 
like,"  observed  Ford,  "  or  mine." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Joliffe  unperturbed,  "  but  we  may 
know." 

"  But,  my  good  man,"  said  Ford,  slipping  into  confi- 
dence, and  bending  towards  him,  "  she'll  go  in  any  case. 
She's  been  talking  of  it  for  a  week  back." 

The  chauffeur  joined  his  gloved  hands  behind  him. 


312  DUKE  JONES 

"  She  may  go — anywhere  for  me,  Mr.  Ford,  in  a  hired 
hack.  She  doesn't  come  with  me  to-night.  Who  sent 
Miss  Violet  down  to  Dover  in  that  weather  by  her  grum- 
bling when  she  wasn't  fit  to  stir?  Who  teased  her  into 
this  fever  she  never  should  have  had  with  proper  han- 
dling? I  married  a  wife,  Mr.  Ford,  and  I  know — better 
than  you.  Sir  Claude  knows  well  enough  himself  who's 
answerable, — he'd  not  blame  me, — he  didn't  before.  In 
any  case,  I  risk  my  place.  Who  never  even  sent  to  in- 
quire, playing  with  that  new  doll  of  hers, — not  that  I've 
a  word  against  Miss  Addenbroke,"  said  Joliffe  hastily. 
"  They  kept  the  whole  from  Miss  Addenbroke  on  pur- 
pose,— that's  Sir  Claude.  She  suffering  like  that  for  a 
week  past,  between  life  and  death  these  two  days,  and  los- 
ing her  baby  to-night.  It's  past  hope  when  Mrs.  Gibbs 
gives  up,  I  know  that  I  saw  it  in  her  face.  She  loves 
Miss  Violet,  she's  done  all  a  woman  could.  And  her  own 

mother It's  not  to  be  thought  of  by  decent  people," 

Joliffe  summed  up  his  oration,  "  and  I  won't.    That's  the 
long  and  short  of  it.    Good  night,  sir." 

"  She'll  sack  them  all,"  said  Ford  thoughtfully,  when 
the  chauffeur  was  gone.  "  And  what  Sir  Claude  will  say 
when  he  comes — we'd  best  not  ask.  The  only  hope  is, 
I  may  be  sacked  myself  by  then,  so  it'll  no  longer  be  my 
business.  Not  that  it  is  in  any  case,  of  course,  but  there's 
literally  no  one  else  to  do  it.  Joliffe's  a  ripper, — fellow 
in  a  thousand,  isn't  he  ?  I  like  the  way  he  broke  out  and 
stamped  on  me.  Married  a  wife! — it  was  scriptural." 
He  added  after  an  interval,  seeing  the  direction  of  Jones' 
eyes, — "  That's  Mrs.  Shovell,  the  smaller  one.  You  have  , 
met  her,  haven't  you  ?  " 

Jones,  at  the  permission  granted  him  by  the  words, 
got  up  and  crossed  to  the  portrait. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  met  them  down  in  Cornwall, — same 
time  as  I  met  Miss  Addenbroke, — on  their  wedding  tour. 
Couldn't  see  much  of  her  in  the  nature  of  things,  you 
know,  but  still " 


UNDINE  313 

"  Shovell's  friendly,"  said  Ford.  "  He  doesn't  abso- 
lutely cut  you  out,  I  mean,  does  he?  Good-hearted, — I 
was  beastly  sorry  for  him  to-night." 

They  were  both  giving  themselves  away,  of  course, 
hand  over  hand,  and  quite  unaware  of  it.  Once  more 
the  mighty  powers  of  love  and  pity  were  mercifully  con- 
fused. Pity  reigned  supreme  for  the  moment  over  this 
house  where  Violet  had  dwelt ;  and  under  the  shelter  of 
that  presence  any  little  love  that  was  lurking  could  air 
itself  unashamed.  They  both  talked  of  little  else  for 
nearly  an  hour,  since  the  telephone  gave  Hubert  a  respite, 
and  it  was  an  exquisite  hour  to  Jones.  He  had  not 
realized, — having  the  business  mind, — a  private  secre- 
tary's position,  still  less  the  position  of  a  secretary  in 
this  house,  for  it  was  certainly  exceptional. 

Lately,  noticing  the  attitude  of  the  household  towards 
his  present  host,  Marmaduke  had  begun  to  suspect  his 
privileges.  Now  he  became  convinced  of  them  rapidly, 
as  he  picked  up  Ford's  casual  confidences.  Ford  had 
known  her  long  before  marriage, — since  she  was  sixteen. 
He  had  had  innumerable  chances  of  her  company  in  her 
own  family  circle,  even  tete-a-tete  in  intimate  talk.  He 
had  stories  of  her  by  the  dozen,  laughable  and  serious, 
for  she  had  always  stirred  laughter  about  her,  he  per- 
ceived, as  well  as  love.  Ford,  infinitely  blest,  had  dined 
with  her,  danced  with  her,  disputed  with  her  very  fre- 
quently ;  he  had  played  and  sung  with  her  in  the  winter 
evenings,  and  on  the  summer  mornings  lifted  her  upon 
her  horse.  He  spoke  of  her  like  a  little  sister  almost, 
since  such  men  as  Ford  speak  of  their  sisters  with  re- 
spect. It  was  both  charming  to  listen  to  and  fortifying 
to  Jones'  inner  case  as  well. 

For, — you  will  observe, — other  men  felt  as  he  did  to- 
wards Shovell's  wife,  and  were  not  ashamed  of  stating 
their  opinions  aloud,  at  least  in  times  like  these.  Thus — 
what  followed  may  be  guessed.  The  movement  of  Mar- 
maduke's  heart  towards  her  was  justified,  and  he  need 


314  DUKE  JONES 

have  no  further  misgivings.  She  just  produced  eddying 
circles  of  such  eager  devotion,  he  supposed,  wherever  she 
walked  about  the  world.  And  fifty  "  fellows  "  in  Lon- 
don,— perhaps  a  hundred  and  fifty, — would  be  feeling 
just  like  Jones,  under  the  shock  of  this  overmastering 
news,  as  well. 

As  for  details  of  her  present  state,  Ford  could  offer 
little  to  supplement  what  Jones'  sympathy  had  already 
collected.  The  secretary  had  only  seen  his  chief  by 
flashes  for  ten  days  past ;  for  it  seemed  Mrs.  Shovell  had 
been  seriously  ill  for  a  week  before  the  premature  birth 
of  her  child.  Charles,  when  he  brought  the  last  news 
that  afternoon,  had  been  too  exhausted,  physically  and 
mentally,  to  impart,  as  Ford  had  been  too  stunned  by  the 
central  fact  to  inquire.  They  had  hoped  to  save  that  child 
for  her,  after  all  she  had  suffered  for  it;  it  was  a  cruel, 
crushing  disappointment  for  all  concerned,  for  the  grand- 
mother had  been  hopeful  the  first  two  days.  Charles' 
disappointment  was  the  worst,  as  Jones  well  under- 
stood, owing  to  his  peculiar,  almost  childish  confidence 
in  his  mother  and  the  doctors.  Yet  it  was  his  mother 
herself  who  had  shorn  his  hopes  to  the  ground  that  even- 
ing ;  so  Charles,  as  is  the  way  with  the  so-called  sanguine 
temperament,  had  dropped  straightway  to  the  other  ex- 
treme, despairing  of  Violet  and  all;  and  none  of  Ford's 
suggestions,  gathered  from  a  not  inconsiderable  med- 
ical experience,  had  been  able  to  reassure  him. 

"  Sir  Claude  will  be  late,  I  suppose,"  said  Marmaduke, 
looking  rather  shy,  when  he  finally  rose  to  go. 

"  Any  hour  up  to  midnight,  obviously.  He  couldn't 
say  himself,  I  expect,  when  Joliffe  left.  He'll  be  sorry 
to  miss  you,"  said  the  representative,  remembering  his 
charge. 

"  Thanks,  but  that's  not  what  I  meant.  You  won't 
see  him  yourself,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  shall  wait, — till  midnight  if  necessary. 
I've  lists  of  questions,  anyhow,"  said  Ford  in  his  own  ex- 


UNDINE  315 

cuse.  "  You'd  like  a  line,  perhaps,"  he  added,  almost 
instantly.  (Blessed  be  the  business  habit,  which  makes 
room  for  the  claims  of  all!) 

"  It's  adding  to  your  work,"  said  Jones.  "  You'd  be 
awfully  good.  Can't  help  thinking  of  her,  you  know, — 
and  Shovell  too." 

"  It's  the  worst  time  of  a  man's  life,  they  say,"  said 
Ford.  They  were  both  very  sorry  for  Charles,  now  and 
then. 

"  Well,  you'd  be  awf 'ly  good,"  said  Jones.  "  Like  to 
show  you  round  my  little  place  some  time.  Do  you 
bicycle  ?  " 

"Rather!"  The  secretary  laughed.  "Couldn't  live 
long  without,  the  way  the  doctor  Behaves.  He's  like 
quicksilver  to  catch,  soft  and  sudden.  Always  round  the 
next  corner  by  the  time  you're  at  the  last." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Jones,  who  found  the 
image  most  apt,  though  not  to  Sir  Claude.  "  Well,  some 
Sunday,  then.  Don't  bother  to  write, — must  be  sick  of 
writing.  Take  your  chance,  what  ?  " 

"  Thanks  awfully,"  said  the  other  young  man ;  and 
they  parted,  as  if  they  had  known  one  another  for  years, 
on  the  steps. 

VI 

Sir  Claude  came  home  towards  midnight.  He  looked 
very  tired,  though  less  ghastly  than  Charles.  For  one 
thing  he  had  had  the  work,  and  Charles  merely  the  wait- 
ing ;  for  another  he  was  always  pale.  He  appeared  absent 
too,  to  the  man  who  let  him  in,  as  though  he  dragged  him- 
self with  difficulty  from  another  world.  Francis,  the 
footman,  knew  instinctively  from  that  look,  at  once  lofty 
and  vague,  what  had  occurred.  It  was  more  terrible  by 
far  than  any  severity  could  have  been,  and  as  he  took  the 
doctor's  thick  coat,  for  Claude  had  been  driving  himself, 
he  was  absolutely  trembling ;  but  his  master  did  not  seem 
to  notice  it.  He  heard  the  news  of  his  wife's  absence, 


316  DUKE  JONES 

Francis  told  the  awed  circle  in  the  kitchen  afterwards, 
without  a  sign,  looking  through  the  man  with  his  dark 
eyes,  as  though  he  followed  with  an  effort. 

"  Elkington  House  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  Ah,  yes,  that 
was  to-night."  He  reached  the  hall  table,  and  rested  the 
fingers  of  one  hand  upon  it.  "  Mr.  Ford  is  gone,  I  sup- 
pose," he  said,  still  absently. 

"  No,  sir ;  in  the  study,"  said  Francis.  "  You've  dined, 
sir?"  he  added,  fearing  literally  that  he  might  drop 
where  he  stood ;  for  their  doctor  had  barely  the  strength 
of  one  man,  though  he  commonly  did  the  work  of  three. 

"  Yes — no — I  can't  remember.  Tell  them  to  send 
something  to  the  study,  will  you? — anything  there  is. 
And,  Francis "  His  back  was  turned,  by  the  table. 

"Yes,  sir?" 

"  Tell  them  Miss  Violet's  baby  died  at  nine  o'clock. 
They  will  be  sorry." 

"  Yes,  sir."  The  man  was  almost  voiceless.  "  Miss 
Violet,  sir?" 

"  Better,  a  trifle,  but  very  weak.  Milford  Angus  said 
she  would  do,  before  he  left.  Mrs.  Gibbs  is  wonderful, — 
she  and  Mrs.  Mason  are  taking  the  night.  Alison, — 
isn't  it? — will  come  here  in  Mason's  place  in  the  morn- 
ing." He  moved,  and  turned  aside  in  the  direction  of  the 
study  door. 

Francis  made  a  mighty  effort,  and  stopped  him. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Sir  Claude.    Miss  Addenbroke " 

"What?" 

"  She's  not  so  well,  sir, — in  Miss  Violet's  old  room. 
Leontine's  been  trying,  since  Lady  Ashwin  left,  but  she 
won't  speak  to  her." 

"  Has  she  heard  ?  "  Claude  came  to  life,  looked  him- 
self almost,  and  spoke  sharply. 

"  I  believe — her  ladyship "   Francis  was  cut  off. 

"  Put  dinner  back  half  an  hour,  will  you  ?  And  tell 
Mr.  Ford  I  must  not  keep  him, — simply  that." 

Francis  told  Mr.  Ford  in  the  study  "  simply  that,"  and 


UNDINE  317 

Mr.  Ford  did  not  even  change  his  lazy  attitude  by  the 
fire.  He  remarked  that  there  would  be  time  to  get  the 
food  hot,  and  the  man  agreed. 

"  What's  he  look  like  ?  "  said  Ford  in  confidence.  The 
footman  shrugged. 

"  The  baby  died  at  nine,"  he  confided  in  return,  as  he 
knelt  to  make  up  the  fire.  "  She's  better,  God  bless  her ; 
round  the  corner,  they  think." 

"  He  wouldn't  have  come  home,  otherwise,"  said 
Hubert.  "  A  jolly  house  for  him, — oh,  Lord !  "  After 
a  short  interval  of  consideration,  he  swung  himself  up, 
and  wrote  to  Jones. 

"  Tiens,  le  docteur !  "  said  Lady  Ash  win's  maid,  an  ele- 
gant young  female,  rising  lightly  from  beside  Felicia's  low 
chair.  "  Elle  est  navree,  monsieur,  la  pauvre  petite.  Voila 
bien  quatre  heures  que  Miladi  est  partie, — pas  un  mouve- 
ment,  pas  un  signe.  Pas  moyen  de  la  faire  pleurer, 
regarder  son  enfant,  rien!  Elle  parait  accablee, — com- 
ment dirai-je? — prosternee, — ane"antie!  Elle  a  un  si  ex- 
cellent cceur ! " 

This  flood  of  eloquence,  which  Leontine's  feelings  had 
been  storing  up  for  hours,  broke  its  bounds  suddenly  at 
"  le  docteur's  "  appearance, — since  here  was  at  last  a 
person  who  could  comprehend  both  the  feelings  them- 
selves, and  the  language  in  which  they  were  conveyed. 

Leontine,  it  should  be  mentioned,  being  without  the 
circle  swayed  by  Joliffe  and  Mason,  had  been  the  one 
party  in  opposition,  when  the  household  staff  fell  into 
line,  by  Miss  Violet's  command,  with  the  necessary  atti- 
tude to  Miss  Addenbroke.  Leontine,  with  her  Gallic  in- 
dependence, swung  impudently  clear  of  the  prescribed 
attitude,  and  told  anybody  who  would  listen  to  her, 
perpetually  and  in  detail,  what  she  thought. 

Now  Leontine's  private  pose  had  modified  into  one 
more  friendly,  though  equally  French;  for  since  Lady 
Ashwin,  in  a  hired  motor,  had  finally  departed  to  dine 


318  DUKE  JONES 

with  friends,  Leontine  and  Lisette  had  been  tcte-a-tete. 
An  "  excellent  cceur "  will  excuse  you  at  the  gates  of 
purgatory,  if  not  from  all  items  of  retribution,  at  least 
from  much.  Leontine,  who  had  herself  wept  quarts,  for 
hours,  over  her  loved  Miss  Violet,  and  used  terms  about 
her  mistress  that  had  alarmed  all  the  servants,  had 
proved  herself  beyond  all  question  the  only  person  of 
heart  in  the  servants'  hall.  Now  Lisette's  still  whiteness, 
over  her  fretful  baby,  seemed  at  once  more  striking  and 
more  commendable,  even  than  her  own  copious  meed  of 
tears.  The  scene  on  which  "  le  docteur  "  entered,  in  the 
room  that  had  once  been  his  daughter's,  was  very  mov- 
ing, certainly.  Leontine  was  sure  Sir  Claude,  whose 
taste  was  so  perfect,  would  be  impressed,  and  waited 
breathless  for  his  commentary. 

Unfortunately,  Monsieur  showed  no  sign  of  admira- 
tion, either  of  Lisette's  condition,  or  of  Leontine's  ef- 
forts to  improve  upon  it.  As  soon  as  his  eyes  fell  on  the 
girl  he  sent  the  attendant  packing,  firing  off  a  list  of 
orders  in  her  own  language  that  it  took  all  her  attention 
to  remember,  and  the  quest  for  which  carried  her  flutter- 
ing, first  to  the  distant  kitchen,  and  then  into  every  corner 
of  the  house  in  turn. 

By  the  time  she  came  back,  Monsieur,  by  some  occult 
means  known  to  him,  had  roused  the  little  mother  to  some 
show  of  life,  and  her  beautiful  strange  eyes  were  follow- 
ing his  movements  about  the  room.  She  still  looked 
frightened,  but  more  composed.  Leontine,  paralyzed 
with  admiration  on  her  side,  having  quite  given  up  ex- 
pecting it  on  his,  stood  transfixed  in  a  beautiful  attitude 
to  watch  him  feed  her.  Monsieur  did  it  like  a  mother 
almost, — his  gentleness  was  divine.  What  was  more, 
Mademoiselle  received  it  divinely.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
Leontine  that,  since  Mademoiselle  refused  food  in  words, 
she  might  still  take  it,  if  produced  beneath  her  nose  in 
appetizing  quantity.  Felicia  did, — she  took  any  amount, 
all  Claude  would  give  her,  and  her  color  began  to  return. 


UNDINE  319 

"  Kindly  remember  in  future,"  said  Monsieur,  in  his 
softest  voice  and  most  freezing  utterance,  speaking  over 
her  fair  head  to  the  maid,  "  that  since  emotion  implies 
exhaustion,  food  is  the  first  thing.  Sentiment  and  sym- 
pathy come  some  distance  after,  though  excellent  in  their 
place.  Conversation  comes  last  of  all.  You  must  know 
this  in  your  own  case,  I  think, — thus  it  would  have  been 
simple  to  transfer  it  to  hers." 

"  En  effet,"  murmured  Leontine,  surprised.  She  had, 
as  a  fact,  discovered  that  appetite  and  emotion  were 
allied.  She  had  consumed,  still  weeping,  an  enormous 
dinner,  and  marveled  how  Monsieur  should  know  it. 

"  You  might  have  added  to  it,"  said  Monsieur,  in  the 
same  weary  tone  and  perfect  accent,  "  the  somewhat 
obvious  fact  that,  whereas  you  are  nourishing  but  one 
individual  at  the  present  time,  as  I  trust  sufficiently,  this 
child  is  nourishing  two;  which  makes  it,  especially  to  a 
woman  sutb-as  you,  a  matter  of  mere  duty  to  be  prompt." 

"  Miladi "  began  Leontine.     He  cut  her  off. 

"  Lady  Ashwin  probably  thought  it  so  obvious  that 
she  did  not  mention  it.  She  is  the  last  person  who  would 
have  overlooked  the  necessity.  Now  leave  us,  if  you 
please,  alone." 

Leontine  made  a  graceful  withdrawal,  reflecting  that 
Monsieur  was  tired.  Besides,  he  was  an  ill-used  husband, 
— and  a  charming  man, — and  besides,  the  last  observation 
was  true.  Lady  Ashwin  would  never  have  overlooked  it. 
It  was  singular  how,  knowing  "  Miladi "  as  he  did,  and 
with  the  attraction  he  could  exert  at  will,  he  yet  allowed 
her  freedom  to  mock  herself  of  him  at  all  points  so 
completely.  Leontine,  it  may  be  observed,  found  life  in 
this  English  household  most  interesting;  though  her  own 
part  of  the  work  with  Lady  Ashwin  was  at  once  more 
arduous,  and  less  amusing,  since  Mademoiselle  her  be- 
loved had  quitted  it. 

"  That's  coming  right  again,  isn't  it  ? "  said  Claude, 


320  DUKE  JONES 

touching  the  smooth  brow  beneath  Felicia's  tangled  hair. 
Her  strange  eyes  were  spent  with  weeping,  as  he  saw. 
He  had  thought  Eveleen  would  have  had  the  sense  to 
spare  her,  but  Eveleen  was  beyond  all  prevision  and  pre- 
diction now.  "  Will  you  have  the  baby?  " 

Lisette  nodded,  and  watched  while  he  fetched  it, 
critically.  But  she  could  not  deny  he  knew  how  to  deal 
with  it,  and  he  laid  it  very  cleverly  in  her  arms.  As  he 
bent  down  with  the  child,  though,  something  in  the  atti- 
tude seemed  to  strike  her,  awakening  a  memory;  and 
she  clung  to  him  with  one  hand,  tugging  a  little  to  draw 
him  near. 

"  I  want  you  to  stop,  you  know,"  she  observed,  frown- 
ing slightly.  "  There's  something  else." 

"  Surely  not,"  said  Claude,  smiling  upon  the  lovely 
group.  That  did  little  good,  however,  for  he  was  like 
Violet  when  he  smiled. 

"  I  want  you,"  she  insisted.    "  Here." 

So  he  gave  way  to  the  coaxing  hand,  and  let  her  take 
possession  of  him  completely,  since  that  was  her  desire. 
Lisette  had  no  idea  of  a  man,  even  though  it  might  be 
a  doctor,  dividing  his  attention.  Besides,  for  all  his  need 
of  instruction  in  nursing  matters,  she  had  grown  very 
fond  of  Violet's  father  during  the  period,  now  happily 
past,  of  her  terror  and  pain.  Sir  Claude,  on  his  side, 
had  succumbed  with  pitiable  ease  to  Lisette,  as  his  daugh- 
ter had  prophesied.  Whenever  life  needed  improvement, 
Lisette  had  applied  to  him  with  unfailing  success.  He 
had  dismissed  the  stuck-up  nurse  for  her,  for  instance, 
with  praiseworthy  decision  and  promptitude;  he  had  re- 
furnished and  adapted  this  room  for  her  and  the  baby, 
with  an  elaborate  attention  she  could  not  but  approve; 
he  had  already  given  her  a  number  of  pretty  things  for 
her  personal  use  and  adornment ;  and  she  had  good  hope 
of  the  pearls,  in  time. 

"  It's  not  dead,"  she  murmured,  pushing  her  fair  head 
against  his  sleeve,  just  as  though  by  coaxing  she  could 


UNDINE  321 

persuade.  She  could  not,  though ;  nothing  could  persuade 
him.  Lisette  looked  up  at  his  face  several  times  in  the 
next  few  minutes,  but  its  inexorable  gravity  did  not 
change.  She  swallowed  the  truth  with  a  little  gulp,  her 
face  twisting  slightly  with  the  effort. 

"  Did  she  cry  ?  "  she  asked  him  softly,  still  fingering 
him  with  one  hand,  while  the  other  fingers  guided 
instinctively  her  beautiful  infant  to  her  beautiful 
breast. 

"  She  hardly  realizes  what  has  happened,  my  dear ; 
she  is  too  weak  to  understand.  She  is  worse  than  you 
were,"  said  Claude.  "  Has  been  throughout." 

"  Oh !  "  A  gasp.  Lisette  had  considered  her  own  suf- 
ferings unequaled, — a  disgrace  to  whatever  Authority 
was  in  command.  So  had  Eveleen  done,  Claude  remem- 
bered, though  both  were  ideal  cases.  He  was  not  quite 
sure,  at  times,  in  his  progress  through  the  thickest  of 
the  skirmish,  they  were  not  right. 

"  Who  will  tell  her?  "  pursued  Felicia.    "  You?  " 

"  I,  or  Charles'  mother.    She  might  do  it  best." 

"  No, — you,"  ordained  Lisette.  "  Violet  would  rather ; 
she's  keen  on  you.  Promise  you  will  tell  her." 

He  promised,  holding  her  close.  Her  little  efforts  at 
sympathy,  over  the  edge  of  her  nature,  as  it  were,  were 
infinitely  lovable;  as  her  beauty  was,  in  his  weariness, 
pure  consolation.  Claude  thought  of  his  Violet,  as  she 
had  been  when  he  reached  her  side  at  last, — wrecked 
and  prostrate,  as  though  the  wheel  of  life  had  passed 
across  her;  and  the  marvelous  wisdom  and  depth  of  her 
gray  eyes,  before  they  recognized  him  that  night,  and 
the  infantile  trust  and  sweetness,  when  they  did.  It  was 
wonderful  for  a  scientist,  a  privilege  he  recognized  in  his 
pain,  to  be  allowed  to  study  two  such  types  of  woman- 
hood, in  a  like  crisis,  side  by  side. 

Lisette  abandoned  herself  to  the  child  for  a  time,  con- 
tentment spreading  slowly,  like  the  light  up  the  morning 
sky,  across  her  face.  Then  it  clouded  faintly. 


322  DUKE  JONES 

"  I  can't  show  him  to  her  now,"  she  murmured.  "  Can 
I?" 

"  In  time,"  said  the  doctor.  "  He  will  only  grow  better 
for  waiting  a  little." 

"  Yes,"  Lisette  agreed.  Then  suddenly,  with  a  most 
sensitive  gesture,  she  drew  the  shawl  right  across  the 
little  face. 

"  Do  you  mind  ? "  she  inquired,  biting  her  lip,  and 
glancing  at  him. 

He  shook  his  head,  and  his  hand  uncovered  the  child 
again.  But  Lisette  had  seen, — she  had  the  quick  artist 
eye.  He  looked  tormented,  just  as  once  she  had  made 
Violet  look,  when  she  told  a  brutal  story  in  her  presence, 
in  the  train. 

"  You  saw  it,  didn't  you  ? "  she  ventured  soon,  her 
hand  still  coaxing  him  to  be  happy. 

"  Yes.  Don't  worry  about  our  cares,  my  dear.  You 
should  go  to  sleep." 

But  she  persisted.    "  What  was  it  like  ?  " 

"  Pretty  and  small.  Beautiful  little  limbs,"  said  Claude. 

"Like  her?" 

"  I  thought  so.    Charles'  mother  thought  like  Charles." 

"  Yes."  She  nodded,  knowing  about  that.  Light  and 
shade,  for  some  minutes,  struggled  in  her  face.  Her 
thoughts  were  working,  he  was  sure,  with  the  fingers 
working  on  his  sleeve.  Claude  watched  her  intently,  wit- 
nessing, he  was  aware  of  it,  one  of  the  miracles  of  life. 
Felicia  was  feeling  for  a  soul,  like  the  fabled  Undine. 
Being  Claude,  he  was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  wished  it; 
he  had  seen  the  wraith  she  was  at  sixteen,  and  Claude 
loved  wraiths.  He  longed  to  entreat  her  not  to  struggle 
with  them  further;  but  she  did. 

"  I  oughtn't  to  have  teased  her  in  the  carriage,  you 
know,"  she  murmured.  "  It  was  beastly,  really, — but  I 
felt  beastly, — see?  I'd  have  kissed  her  instead  if  I  had 
known.  I  meant  to  wheri  I  saw  her  standing  on  the  pier, 
but  I  was  sick  and  tumbled.  After  that  I  forgot.  I'd 


UNDINE  323 

like  to  now.  She's  done  a  lot  for  me,— she  and 

Duke, "  Her  voice  was  failing,  from  sleep  as  much 

as  emotion. 

"  I  will  kiss  her  for  you  to-morrow,  shall  I  ?  "  said 
Claude. 

"  Yes ;  that'll  do."  She  patted  him,  approving,  with 
her  hand.  To  get  the  thing  off  her  mind  so  easily  was 
delightful,  and  the  last  clouds  from  another's  sorrow 
soon  passed.  Her  lashes  were  drooping  already,  before 
the  confession  was  completed;  and  she  was  asleep  soon 
after,  in  his  arms. 


PART  III 


JONES'  proposal  came  as  a  shock  to  the  world.  Dramatic- 
ally, Jones  was  a  complete  success  on  this  occasion,  for 
he  surprised  even  the  curious  compilers  of  his  narra- 
tive, and  he  had  the  honor  of  flabbergasting  the  Ingestres, 
who  refused,  for  some  time,  to  believe  in  Jones'  existence. 
They  had  a  vague  idea  somebody  had  invented  him  in  a 
story-book ;  and  when  Charles  Shovell,  facing  John 
Ingestre's  wife  in  his  own  dining-room,  swore  solemnly 
to  Jones'  existence,  in  the  life,  at  Leatherhead,  Agatha 
seemed  still  to  suspect  Charles'  extravagant  imagination 
of  carrying  him  away. 

"  Men  don't  do  those  sort  of  things,"  argued  Agatha. 

"  No  men  do  the  kind  of  things  Jones  does,"  said 
Charles,  with  pride.  "  Look  at  his  record  up  to  now, — 
astonishing !  " 

Agatha  had  come,  in  the  first  instance,  on  family 
business  for  John;  and  secondly,  to  do  the  proper  thing 
by  the  poor  little  people,  as  she  kindly  called  them;  and 
thirdly,  with  the  fixed  intention,  for  her  own  sake,  of 
seeing  Violet.  She  had  good  hope  now  of  succeeding 
in  all  her  objects,  except  the  fixed  intention;  and  that 
disappointment  was  only  due  to  the  unlucky  chance  of 
having  found  Violet's  doctor  on  the  premises.  Agatha 
was  confident  she  could,  but  for  Claude,  have  accom- 
plished it.  As  it  was,  having  been  tranquilly  defeated  by 
the  professional  manner,  which  baffled  her  in  a  person 
like  Claude,  who  had  always  been  very  polite  to  her 
before,  accepting  her  sadly,  as  he  did  most  of  his  wife's 

327 


328  DUKE  JONES 

relations, — Agatha  intended  to  take  her  revenge  upon 
him  later  on.  She  had,  as  the  emissary  of  the  family, 
some  questions  to  ask  of  him  as  well,  when  she  had,  so  to 
speak,  drained  Charles.  Charles  lent  himself  to  the 
inquisitor  easily, — almost  too  easily.  He  talked  too 
much.  No  efforts  of  Agatha's  could  restrict  him  to  even 
probable-sounding  facts,  in  the  matter  of  Mr.  Jones. 
One  would  have  said,  on  this  subject,  Mr.  Shovell's 
tongue  was  in  practice. 

"  From  the  first  moment  my  eye  fell  on  him,"  said 
Charles,  " — perhaps  I  should  say  our  eye,  never  mind, — 
I  marked  him  down.  I  said,  a  mystery.  She  denied  it, 
but  then,  she  hasn't  my  flair.  Besides,  she  always  con- 
tradicts me  in  the  first  instance.  I  said  his  colorless 
appearance  was  against  him,  and  he  could  be  no  common 
man.  I  said, — my  dear,  something  lurks  beneath  that 
drab  disguise.  If  you  don't  believe  me,"  summed  up 
Charles,  "  ask  her." 

"  I  can't,"  said  Agatha  resentfully,  looking  across  the 
room  at  Claude.  "  That's  what  I  came  for,  naturally, — 
not  to  sit  here  listening  to  your  fairy-tales." 

"  Jones  as  a  fairy,"  said  Charles  dreamily.  "  Mrs. 
Ingestre,  you  may  be  right." 

Charles  sat  on  a  corner  of  his  dining-room  table,  gently 
swinging  his  foot,  and  watching  his  mother,  who,  con- 
tributing little  to  the  conversation,  though  her  expres- 
sion seemed  critical  of  her  son's  absurdities,  was  engaged 
in  darning  his  socks. 

Mrs.  Ingestre  cleared  her  throat.  Taking  her  time, 
since  nobody  seemed  in  a  hurry,  fortunately,  or  inclined 
to  turn  her  out,  she  looked  about  her  through  her  lor- 
gnette at  the  room.  It  was  an  extraordinarily  pretty  room, 
and  in  exquisite  order:  but  so  was  all  the  house.  Such 
comfort  and  cleanliness,  in  a  house  so  lately  convulsed 
by  illness,  was  gratifying  to  a  good  house-mistress  like 
Mrs.  John,  who  had  "  backed  "  the  young  Mrs.  Shovell. 
No  signs  of  storm  were  to  be  seen ;  on  all  sides  the  place 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  329 

was  pretty  and  peaceful.  The  aspect  of  the  maid  who 
admitted  her  alone  would  have  proved  good  management, 
the  composure  and  alertness  combined  which  suggests  at 
once,  to  one  of  Agatha's  training,  a  firm  hand  upon 
the  reins.  The  same  unobtrusive  competence  breathed 
in  the  atmosphere  of  this  room.  The  little  garden  through 
the  window  was  orderly  too,  though  hardly  larger  than 
the  table  on  which  Charles  sat.  Tulips  of  sedate  design 
adorned  it,  daintily  dressed  in  white  and  pink.  Their 
faint  fragrance,  with  that  of  the  warm  wet  earth,  drifted 
in  from  time  to  time  through  the  open  window.  They 
were  at  their  proudest  moment,  the  very  climax  of  their 
effort  to  redeem  the  London  garden,  and  please  the 
careful  gardener:  and  it  seemed  a  pity  that  the  garden- 
er's eyes,  in  her  upper  room,  were  turned  away. 

Charles'  eyes  were  on  the  tulips,  too,  when  he  grew 
tired  of  watching  the  interesting  way  in  which  his 
mother's  needle  wriggled  through  his  socks.  He  had 
already  informed  her  that  she  did  it  as  well  as  Violet, 
very  nearly :  but  she  seemed  less  gratified  by  the  compli- 
ment than  one  would  have  expected.  Mrs.  Gibbs  had 
darned  Charles'  socks  for  twenty-four  years,  and  her 
daughter-in-law  not  yet  for  one,  which  may  have  been 
the  reason  of  her  imperturbability.  Charles  had  always 
worn  them  out  with  shameful  rapidity,  and  Mrs.  Gibbs 
had  strongly  advised  Violet,  before  her  marriage,  not 
to  undertake  the  task. 

Agatha,  moving  her  attention,  and  her  eye-glass,  from 
the  room  to  the  people  in  occupation  of  it,  found  them 
also  worth  study,  in  their  way.  The  attitude  and  be- 
havior of  all  three  gave  her  the  impression  of  that  rather 
languid  idleness  which  is  the  reaction  from  prolonged 
strain,  physical  and  mental.  They  were  pleased  to  rest 
and  chaff  a  little  with  the  first  comer,  and  touch,  through 
Agatha's  medium,  the  outer  world  again.  That  languor 
was  what  gave  the  house  also,  on  entering  it,  a  little  the 
air  of  a  sleeping  palace,  none  within  its  precincts  daring 


330  DUKE  JONES 

to  stir:  although,  as  the  visitor  was  thankful  to  think, 
the  princess  had  been  aroused,  and  with  her  awakening, 
life  must  flow  back  to  it  soon. 

Claude  looked  ill,  simply:  but  then  Agatha,  having 
heard  of  Eveleen's  latest  proceedings  on  all  hands  in  the 
town,  had  been  more  or  less  prepared  for  that.  Eveleen 
was  dragging  her  husband  into  notoriety,  and  he  detested 
and  shrank  from  it, — the  more  that  he  was  bound,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  to  face  it  daily.  Agatha,  as  has  been 
said,  postponed  that  part  of  her  investigation  till  she 
could  catch  him  privately.  The  young  master  of  the 
house  seemed  fighting  lassitude  all  the  time  he  talked 
with  his  customary  careless  freedom.  Half  Charles' 
mind  seemed  elsewhere,  or  mislaid  completely.  He  was 
also  conspicuously  submissive  to  direction  in  the  person 
of  his  mother,  and  Agatha  could  see  Mrs.  Gibbs  watch- 
ing him  from  time  to  time.  She  suspected  that,  far  from 
assisting  the  workers,  he  had  very  nearly  added  another 
case  to  Violet's.  That  is  the  habit  of  cheerful  characters 
like  Charles.  Mrs.  Gibbs  herself,  who  seemed  to  have 
both  these  wandering  husbands  in  hand,  and  to  be  acting 
as  Eveleen's  most  efficient  substitute  in  everything  that 
concerned  the  girl,  showed  signs  of  the  past  campaign 
only  in  the  guarded  calm  of  her  comely  features,  and  the 
lips  she  set  oddly  in  repose.  Mrs.  Ingestre  liked  the 
look  of  the  Rector's  wife,  a  woman  of  her  own  stamp, 
and  intended  to  get  some  truth  out  of  her  as  well,  before 
she  left  the  house.  At  present,  having  this  incredible 
business  of  Felicia's  to  finish  for  John,  she  must  stick 
to  her  colors,  she  supposed,  and  try  to  extract  something 
from  the  men.  They  must  know  something,  after  all, 
though  they  both  trifled  persistently. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  said  Agatha,  "  that  the  young  fellow 
means  to  marry  the  girl,  as  a  fact?  Is  that  what  you 
wish  me  to  believe?  " 

"  It  would  seem  to  be  his  intention,"  said  Claude, 
with  caution.  "  He  is  constantly  at  my  house." 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  331 

"  Would  seem !  I  beg  you  to  observe,  Claude,  that 
you  are  in  charge  of  her.  Has  he  proposed  it?" 

"  To  her?  I  can't  say.  She  is  certainly,"  said  Claude, 
"  leading  him  the  life  of  a  man  who  is  under  vow.  But 
that  may  be  her  ordinary  method." 

"  And  yet','  said  Agatha  incisively,  "  you  say  I  am  to 
believe  he  is  not  the  father  of  the  child  ?  " 

"  I  say  nothing — heaven  forbid !  Address  yourself  to 
Charles." 

Agatha  addressed  her  eye-glass  to  Charles. 

"  Completely  and  utterly  impossible,"  said  Charles. 

"  Why  impossible  ?  These  quiet  little  men, — one  never 
knows  their  lives.  He  might  have  known  the  Adden- 
brokes  before.  You  met  him  quite  casually,  did  you  not  ? 
Why  shouldn't  he  have  been  deceiving  you  ?  " 

"  Because  he  is  as  incapable  of  deceiving,"  said  Charles 
superbly,  "  as  we  are  of  being  deceived." 

"  Have  you  made  the  least  attempt,"  challenged 
Agatha,  "  to  find  out  any  facts  about  him  ?  " 

"  Perpetual  attempts,"  said  Charles.  "  Violet  and  I 
practically  devoted  ourselves  to  that,  during  the  latter 
half  of  our  honeymoon.  Ask  her  if " 

"  I  shan't  ask  her, — I  can't.  I  wish  you  would  step 
talking  about  it.  Besides,  you  do  her  injustice.  Violet 
is  not  at  all  that  sort  of  girl,  gossiping  and  inquisitive. 
She  has  a  thoroughly  nice  mind." 

"  Oh— thanks,"  said  Charles.    "  You  little  know." 

"  I  shall  advise  John  to  investigate,"  said  Mrs.  Ingestre. 

"  Violet  and  I,"  observed  Charles,  "  might  have  in- 
vestigated Jones  to  the  Judgment-day  and  not  damaged 
our  nice  minds  in  the  smallest  degree.  We  were  con- 
vinced at  least  of  that  before  we  lost  him." 

"  He  met  the  girl  when  you  did,  I  presume  ?  At  the 
same  hotel,  and  so  on  ?  " 

"Lisette?" 

"  Whom  else  should  I  mean  ?  You're  half  asleep," 
observed  Mrs.  Ingestre,  looking  at  him  closely. 


332      .  DUKE  JONES 


pardon."  Charles  roused.  "  Yes.  Jones  sat 
next  Lisette  at  dinner.  He  supplied  her  with  a  laughing- 
stock, and  innumerable  pieces  of  bread.  He  watched  her 
face  like  a  lover  in  the  train.  He  abandoned  his  just 
share  of  the  sandwiches  to  her,  and  was  her  most  un- 
willing model.  I  seldom  saw  a  fellow  more  uncomfort- 
able, for  so  long  a  time,  as  Jones.  From  the  instant  we 
parted  with  him,"  said  Charles,  warming  to  his  work, 
"  he  followed  her,  and  never  left  the  trail.  He  must  have 
spent  fortunes  on  her,  first  and  last.  Blameless  as  he  is, 
himself,  from  birth,  Mrs.  Ingestre, — I  might  say  by  birth, 
considering  his  origin " 

"  What  do  you  know  of  his  origin  ? "  said  Agatha. 

"  Any  amount,"  said  Charles  cheerfully ;  "  and  all  to 
his  credit.  His  ancestry  is  an  open  book  to  us,  I  may 
mention  by  the  way.  Blameless,  I  say,  as  Jones  is,  I 
never  heard  him  criticize  Lisette's  morals, — except  on 
one  occasion." 

"Well?"  said  Agatha  patiently. 

"  When  she  sneaked  a  blouse  of  my  wife's,  and  would 
persist  in  flaunting  it  on  every  occasion,  appropriate  and 
otherwise.  I  bet  she  does  it  still."  Charles  suddenly 
turned  round. 

"  She  does,"  said  his  father-in-law  thoughtfully,  "  if 
you  mean  a  garment  the  color  of  stage  moonlight.  I 
wondered  why  it  seemed  so  familiar." 

"  There  you  are,"  said  Charles  to  Agatha,  as  though 
proving  all  his  points.  "  The  girl  has  no  moral  sense. 
And  still  this  misguided  man  will  lead  her  to  the  altar- 
rails." 

"  You  are  a  pair  of  very  frivolous  people,"  said 
Agatha.  "  Mrs.  Gibbs,  I  appeal  to  you.  Can  you  give 
me  any  facts  about  this  case  ?  " 

"  All  of  them,"  interposed  Charles.  "  Mother  knows 
them  all,  don't  you,  Mother?  She  had  the  last  and  most 
thrilling  chapter  last  night.  Jones  was  Mother's  night- 
cap," he  informed  the  visitor.  "  He  lasted  six  evenings 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  333 

with  care,  half  an  hour  a  night.  .  .  .  No,  you 
don't." 

He  stretched  a  hand,  apparently  to  shut  his  mother's 
mouth,  but  Mrs.  Gibbs  took  hold  of  it  calmly. 

"  Charles  is  a  silly  boy,"  she  said  to  Agatha.  "  He 
does  not  believe  the  young  man  really  cares  for  the  girl, 
that's  all.  He  thinks  he  is  urged  by  duty  in  offering  to 
marry  her.  Odd  notion  of  duty,"  commented  Mrs. 
Gibbs.  "  What  ordinary  people  would  call  a  piece  of 
moonstruck  romanticism.  Only  I  do  not  call  it  that,  be- 
cause I  think  it  more  than  likely  Charles  exaggerates 
the  state  of  things  altogether, — to  say  no  worse." 

"  And  what  is  the  state  of  things  ?  "  said  Agatha.  "  I 
must  get  some  facts,  for  my  husband,  if  possible.  John 
has  not  Mr.  Shovell's  taste  for  fairies, — he  will  call  them 
fiddlesticks.  Do  you  mean  he  wants,  in  the  good  old 
phrase,  to  make  the  girl  respectable  ?  " 

"  By  shutting  the  stable-door,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs,  with 
equal  irony.  "  So  I  made  out,  with  some  trouble,  from 
Charles'  nonsense."  She  patted  the  hand  in  her  lap. 

"  He  wrote  me  a  letter  about  it,"  said  Charles,  with 
dignity,  "  and  wished  to  know  if  we  approved. " 

"  You?  "  said  Agatha. 

"  Us,"  said  Charles.  "  He  seemed  to  need  a  lead  in 
the  matter,  or  a  light  from  heaven.  Ours  very  truly, 
E.  M.  Jones." 

"  What  on  earth  have  you  to  do  with  it  ?  Why  didn't 
he  write  to  John  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  wondered,"  said  Charles  politely,  "  at 
the  time." 

"  Did  Violet  approve  of  him  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Ingestre, 
with  a  gleam  of  hope,  after  a  pause. 

"  Immensely,"  said  Charles.  "  She  even  went  so  far 
as  agreeing  with  me,  once  or  twice.  And  she  thinks  his 
idea  of  marrying  Lisette  is  quite  beautiful.  Those  were 
her  words, — I  asked  her  yesterday." 

"  I  forbade  the  subject,"  observed  Claude  in  the  rear. 


334  DUKE  JONES 

"  She  started  it,"  said  Charles,  half-turning,  "  on  my 
honor.  There  is  something  so  irresistibly  captivating 
about  Marmaduke  to  us  both.  We  cannot  keep  off  him 
long." 

"  Marmaduke?  "  ejaculated  Agatha. 

"  We  rather  like  it  now,"  said  Charles.  "  It  takes 
time  and  practice,  but  you  get  into  the  way.  When  he's 
our  cousin,  we  shall  call  it  him  quite  fluently." 

As  Agatha  sat,  endeavoring  to  see  through  Charles  by 
means  of  the  eye-glass,  he  finished  dreamily — "  Violet 
would  prefer  a  Marmaduke  to  a  Michael,  any  day.  It's 
a  handier  breed." 

"  Don't  be  vulgar,  Charles,"  said  his  mother.  "  A 
handy  breed !  You  know  Violet  would  never  say  such  a 
thing.  Try  talking  sensibly  for  a  change.  You  are 
wasting  Mrs.  Ingestre's  time." 

"  Claude,"  said  Mrs.  Ingestre,  abandoning  Charles. 
"  I  have  heard  you  called  a  man  of  sense.  Is  there  any 
sense  at  all  in  what  your  son-in-law  is  trying  not  to  con- 
vey to  me  ?  " 

"  He  is  trying  not  to  convey  a  fact  that  abashes  him," 
said  the  doctor,  "  naturally ;  that  a  man  may  act  purely 
on  principle  in  the  matter  of  his  marriage.  Not  pick  up 
the  first  decent-looking  girl  that  comes." 

"  Look  here,"  said  Charles,  rising.  "  If  you  have  had 
enough  of  me,  mention  it.  Mother's  quite  ready  to  take 
me  back,  aren't  you,  Mother?" 

"  Quite,  my  dear.  Keep  quiet  now,  for  a  little, — Sir 
Claude  is  going  to  explain."  Obeying  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  Charles  sank  down  cross-legged  at  her  feet,  and  in 
that  modest  attitude  gazed  respectfully  at  his  father-in- 
law.  So  placed,  he  had  the  air  of  a  school-boy,  and  Mrs. 
Gibbs  evidently  thought  he  was  one,  for  she  spared  a 
hand  from  her  work  to  put  the  hair  straight  on  his 
forehead.  The  brow  beneath  the  hair  she  lifted  was 
furrowed  slightly,  Agatha  noticed  then:  his  eyes  were 
clouded  with  arrears  of  exhaustion  and  sleeplessness,  and 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  335 

she  could  see,  owing  to  his  change  of  posture,  the  black 
band  upon  his  arm.  Mrs.  Ingestre  had  always  seen  this 
young  fellow  as  a  father,  easily.  Charles  had  that  look 
of  a  child-lover  so  fruitless  to  define.  His  were  the  kind 
of  eyes  that  smile  on  children,  and  he  had  the  form  of 
nonsense  at  call  that  entertains  them.  She  felt  suddenly 
very  sorry  for  this  little  household,  shorn  of  its  natural 
completion.  It  was  hard,  cruelly  hard,  upon  them  both : 
upon  him  as  much,  since  he  had  doubtless  seen  his  child. 

"  Well,  Claude,"  she  said,  as  the  pause  was  pro- 
longed. "  It  seems  to  take  some  consideration." 

"  It  does,"  said  Claude.  "  It  is  actually  more  in 
Charles'  line  than  mine.  It  is  lyrical,  rather  than 
scientific." 

"  Jones  is  lyrical,"  said  Charles,  dropping  his  head 
back.  "  That  is  the  word  I  wanted,  Mother." 

"Hush!  "said  Mrs.  Gibbs. 

"  This  young  Jones  has  a  turn  for  humanity,  I  gather," 
the  doctor  proceeded,  with  obvious  unwillingness, 
"  and  like  all  instinctive  humanitarians,  he  objects 
to  waste  in  the  world.  He  wants  to  knock  his  nails  on 
the  head,  and  finish  a  work  off  neatly  when  he  has  begun 
it  well." 

"  Aren't  you  confusing  a  humanitarian  and  an  artistic 
cabinet-maker  ?  "  asked  Charles,  still  lying  with  his  head 
back  on  his  mother's  knee. 

"  No,"  said  Claude, — "  where  was  I  ?  If  it  were 
merely  to  make  the  girl  respectable,  Agatha,  Violet 
would  certainly  not  approve  the  match.  I  have  not 
asked  her, — I  ban  all  subjects  of  controversy,  particularly 
that, — but  I  am  sure.  We  are  both  with  you  as  to  that. 
But  we  believe, — Pussy  believes, — it  is  a  compact  of 
security,  and  for  mutual  happiness  as  well.  She  is  mis- 
taken only  as  to  one  thing,  the  man's  own  feeling.  He  is 
doing  it  for  her." 

"What?    For  whom?" 

"My  daughter.     For  her  reassurance  and  peace  of 


336  DUKE  JONES 

mind.  He  knows  what  she  has  been  through  about  it. 
.They  are  in — er — natural  sympathy  over  the  case." 

"  But — this  won't  do,"  said  Agatha,  shifting  her  chair. 
"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  Claude, — come ! — you 
are  an  upright  man." 

"  No,  np," — he  laughed,  looking  straight  at  her  sud- 
denly,— "  that's  what  I  am  not.  I'm  prostrate ;  so's 
Charles.  We  are  helpless,  all  of  us.  We  simply  have 
not  the  courage  to  undeceive  her,  she  is  so  contented 
about  it.  It  seems  to  her  the  correct  ending  to  the  quest, 
you  see,  and  the  hero's  just  reward.  She's  in  the  condi- 
tion— being  fit  for  little  else, — of  blessing  them  both " 

"  Whereas  both  are  in  the  condition  of  blessing  her," 
said  Charles,  with  a  laugh.  "  Well,  Mother,  doesn't  it 
come  to  that  ?  We  worked  it  out  last  night." 

Mrs.  Gibbs  did  not  encourage  him  in  words,  but  her 
expression  over  her  darning  suggested  that  there  was 
little  in  such  a  condition  to  surprise  her.  As  for  Agatha, 
she  looked  at  one  face  after  another,  comically  hopeless. 

"  It  is  really  too  much,"  she  murmured.  "  Not  in  love 
with  her,  Claude?" 

"  There's  my  authority,"  said  Claude.  "  I  really  will 
not  be  responsible.  Charles  has  all  the  documents." 

"And  you  think  I  should  take  his  word  for  it?" 
Agatha  swung  round.  "  On  his  honeymoon,  too  ?  Of 
all  arrant  absurdities!  Mr.  Shovell,  you  have  invented 
the  whole  thing, — confess,  come!  If  you  confess,  I  will 
own  it  is  well  invented, — and  a  perfectly  natural  mis- 
take," she  added  slyly. 

"  It's  a  poor  case,"  the  doctor  admitted,  amused.  "  Up 
with  you,  Charles.  What  have  you  to  say  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Ingestre,"  said  Charles,  with  solemnity,  clasp- 
ing his  knees,  "  you  do  me  wrong,  indeed  you  do.  I 
am  not  mistaken, — I  wish  I  were.  Unluckily,  there's 
only  one  witness  I  can  produce,  and  that's  my  wife. 
She's  already  in  the  dock,  of  course,  so  it's  a  little  hard 
to  manage.  But  since  you're  all  so  beastly  hard  on  me, 


THE  NARRATORS  AT. FAULT  337 

I  shall  jolly  well  make  her  convict  herself.  She  is 
capable  of  it,  really.  Violet  is  not  such  a  fool  as  she 
looks " 

"  Charles !  "  his  mother  ejaculated. 

"  In  this  case,  Mother.  She  does  look  one  in  this 
case,  you  know,  considering  her  reputation.  She's  rather 
smart  as  a  rule, — about  any  other  than  Jones  she'd  have 
been  level  with  me,  easy, — bet  you  she  would.  It's  care- 
lessness, chiefly, — absence  of  mind.  She  never  really 
gave  her  mind  to  Jones  as  I  could  have  wished." 

"  You  ought  to  thank  your  stars  she  didn't,"  said 
Agatha. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Charles.  "  It  worries  me  when  she's 
absent  like  that, — a  bad  sign.  You  never  know  what 
she'll  be  up  to  next.  It's  not  for  want  of  hints,  either, — 
I've  given  her  heaps.  Besides — good  Lord! — the  fel- 
low's condition  was  pitiable." 

"You  only  mean  yours  was,"  said  Agatha,  who  had 
abandoned  everything  now  for  the  pleasure  of  teasing 
him. 

"  Mine  wasn't,"  said  Charles,  ruffling.  "  Any  of  our 
common  acquaintance  been  pitying  me,  Mrs.  Ingestre?" 

"  Plenty,"  said  Agatha,  smiling.  His  innocence  was 
charming,  and  glancing  at  Claude,  she  found  him  faintly 
smiling  too.  Agatha  was  scoring,  internally,  over  John 
at  every  word.  John,  like  Eveleen,  took  the  line  that 
Violet  had  lost  a  chance,  her  best  chance,  of  holding  her 
husband,  in  losing  the  child.  It  was  the  Ingestre  view, 
quite  inevitable.  John  had  sworn  a  round  oath  when  the 
news  came,  as  the  head  of  a  great  house  should  swear  at 
hearing  of  a  son  or  daughter's  failure.  Not  that  this 
Shovell  child  would  be  in  the  direct  line,  of  course:  it 
had  not  that  gravity  to  John.  But  it  was  bad, — bad  man- 
agement, probably ;  though  being  fond  of  the  girl  he  did 
not  like  to  blame  her  directly.  That  was  John's  general 
attitude,  which  his  wife  had  not  tried,  in  words,  to  com- 
bat. But  she  felt  a  kind  of  triumph  now  at  finding 


338  DUKE  JONES 

Charles, — "  rogue  "  as  she  called  him, — still  hopelessly 
beneath  the  spell. 

"  She  clean  bowled  him,"  pursued  Charles  gravely,  all 
unaware  of  his  elders'  entertainment,  "  under  my  very 
eyes,  upon  the  beach  one  day.  What's  more,  I  told  her 
so.  She  simply  wouldn't  attend  to  me, — wasn't  inter- 
ested. It's  a  moral  lesson  against  what  I  can  only  call 
subconscious  flirting.  It's  really  awful  for  a  fellow  to 
be  responsible  for  a  girl  who  flirts  subconsciously, — 
isn't  it,  Mother?" 

"  It's  your  imagination,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs,  calmly 
darning  over  his  head.  "  They  were  probably  talking 
very  nicely, — Violet  never  flirts." 

"  However,"  said  Charles,  returning  to  Agatha  sud- 
denly, "  I  don't  despair  of  her  yet.  Once  give  her  a  fair 
look-in  with  a  free  mind,  and  without  my  presence  to 
distract  her, — and  she'll  get  there,  I  back  her  to.  I  bet 
Margery  Brading  five  shillings  on  it  yesterday " 

"What?"  cried  Margery's  stepmother. 

"  Yes,  Mother, — Margery  took  me.  She's  gone  down- 
hill a  bit  since  she  left  your  place.  Margery  took  me  on 
the  spot,  because  her  theory  is  that  Jones,  given  the  same 
fair  chance,  without  my  presence  to  distract  him,  will 
lose  his  head,  and  give  himself  away  before  Violet  can 
assume  the  cool,  critical  and  impartial  attitude  that  is 
essential  to  the " 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs  with  energy, 
folding  up  his  socks  with  an  air  of  closing  the  conversa- 
tion. "  Ashamed  of  you  both.  I  had  not  thought  it  of 
Margery,  really.  You  have  no  right,  either  of  you,  to 
talk  about  Violet  like  that.  And  as  to  making  bets  about 
her " 

"  I  told  Margery  I  didn't  quite  like  it,"  said  Charles. 
"  She  leads  me  on.  You  shouldn't  send  us  walking  to- 
gether if  you  don't  want  my  nice  mind  to  be  corrupted." 

"  Get  up,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs  simply.  "  I  think  Mrs. 
Ingestre  would  like  to  see  the  garden." 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  339 

"  May  I  go  now  ? "  inquired  Charles  in  confidence, 
having  got  up  as  far  as  his  knees. 

Mrs.  Gibbs  glanced  at  the  clock.  "  I  have  a  great  mind 
not  to  let  you,  after  this,"  she  said.  She  was  grave,  but 
Agatha  saw  she  was  teasing  him  too.  "  Well,"  she  said, 
glancing  at  his  face  the  instant  afterwards,  "  you  may, 
if  she's  awake.  Go  quietly,  and  take  Mrs.  Ingestre's 
flowers  from  the  hall." 

II 

In  the  garden,  Charles'  mother  apologized  to  Agatha 
for  his  childishness  in  her  pleasantly  impassive  manner. 

"  He  will  never  grow  up,"  she  said.  "  Certainly,  if  he 
has  not  this  last  month,  he  never  will." 

"  Has  he  been  ill  ? "  said  Agatha. 

"  Not  really.  His  nerve  gave  way  for  a  time.  He 
has  not  much  staying  power,  though  quite  good  at  a 
pinch.  It  lasted  so  long,  you  know,  that  was  what 
finished  him.  I  was  glad  to  be  there,"  she  added  quietly, 
"  not  only  to  keep  an  eye  on  him." 

"  You  have  done  wonders,  Claude  says,"  said  Mrs. 
Ingestre  politely.  "  Is  that  pretty  little  Lady  Brading 
your  daughter  ?  " 

"  My  husband's  daughter, — and  Sir  Claude's  niece  on 
the  mother's  side." 

"Really?  Had  Claude  a  sister,  then?"  Mrs.  Gibbs 
found  she  had  to  give  the  history. 

"  Charles  is  fond  of  Margery,"  she  concluded,  "  and 
she  is  a  good  walker,  so  she  comes  to  take  him  out.  He 
used  to  walk  alone  in  the  country,  but  now  he  will  not. 
I  am  afraid  Violet  has  spoiled  him, — he  is  quite  lost 
without  her.  I  even  told  him  yesterday  to  get  a  dog. 
I  cannot  see,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs  gravely,  "  why  a  wife 
should  include  the  duties  of  a  dog,  can  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Ingestre,  whose  duties  in  her  husband's  house 
distinctly  did,  had  no  direct  retort,  but  she  proceeded  to 
a  systematic  examination  of  her  companion:  who,  drop- 


340  DUKE  JONES 

ping  her  reticence  by  degrees,  as  they  patrolled  the  patch 
of  grass,  gave  her  all  the  details  she  required.  Mrs. 
Gibbs,  being  a  partisan,  as  was  natural,  of  the  Ashwin 
contingent,  had  suspected  Agatha  at  first  of  indifferent 
"  fine-ladyhood  "  ;  but  she  soon  found  she  was  unjust. 

"  It  was  by  the  merest  luck,"  she  said,  "  that  I  was 
back  from  Italy  in  time.  Margery,  little  silly,  said  Violet 
was  well;  so  I  was  taking  it  quite  easily.  There  was 
still  a  good  month,  you  see,  before  we  thought  we  need 
be  anxious,  and  I  trusted  my  son  to  warn  me, — rashly. 
Charles  is  not  observant,  and  her  acting  deceived  her 
father  almost.  My  first  hint  of  warning  came  from  Sir 
Claude.  I  called  here  to  see  her  one  day,  and — well,  I 
sent  for  my  things,  and  stayed.  She  was  certainly  not  fit 
to  be  alone.  She  had  not  told  Charles  a  thing, — I  got  it 
all  out  of  her  in  an  evening.  Haunted  absolutely,  help- 
less, furious  with  herself,  cut  off  all  her  active  occupa- 
tions, even  letter-writing,  which  would  have  relieved  her, 
— and  the  doctor  talking  down  to  her,  like  a  child  or  an 
imbecile, — neglecting  the  worst  signs.  Providentially 
she  trusts  me ;  there  was  a  time  when  she  was  nervous  of 
me  as  a  child,  but  that  has  passed.  She  was  sweet  as  she 
always  is,  full  of  gratitude,  surprise  at  my  kindness, — 
most  anxious  for  my  comfort,  not  to  mention  my  hus- 
band's,— quite  ready  to  be  confident,  even  over-patient, 
as  I  told  her, — courage  itself.  The  idea  of  treating  that 
like  a  hysterical  schoolgirl!  I  bore  a  good  deal,  first 
and  last,  from  the  specialist's  rudeness,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs, 
"  but  at  least  he  put  that  man  in  his  place." 

Which  led  naturally  to  the  battle  of  the  doctors,  those 
inner  workings  of  which  Lady  Ashwin  had  had  an 
inkling  too. 

"Why  did  Claude  not  attend  her?"  Agatha  de- 
manded. 

"  She  had  made  him  promise  not, — anxiety  for  him 
again.  He  kept  his  promise,  too,  though  it  nearly  killed 
him;  until  Angus  himself  gave  way,  with  the  worst  pos- 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  341 

sible  grace,  and  made  room  for  him.  That  was  the  day 
of  the  child's  death,  much  the  worst  we  had."  Mrs.  Gibbs 
set  her  lips.  "  A  lot  of  babies  they  are  themselves, — 
backbiting!  It  was  all  I  could  do  not  to  tell  that  surly 
Scotchman  what  I  thought, — I  had  the  pleasure  of  hear- 
ing his  opinion  of  Sir  Claude  behind  his  back.  As 
though  as  a  father  he  had  not  a  perfect  right  to  be 
anxious,  quite  apart  from  the  fact  that  he  proved  right 
about  her  at  nearly  every  point !  It  would  be  a  madden- 
ing position  for  any  man,  but  you  would  say  they  had 
no  blood  in  them.  I  heard  Angus  when  he  capitulated, 
— huffy  like  a  child,  and  on  his  dignity  to  the  last.  '  It 
is  our  opinion,  Ashwin,  that  you  may  as  well  replace  us. 
Mrs.  Shovell  seems  reasonable, — should  manage  now/ 
Reasonable!  They  ran  away  from  her  reason,  that  was 
the  long  and  short  of  it.  They  took  good  care  to  leave 
the  breaking  of  the  news  to  him.  Personally,  I  have 
seldom  been  so  thankful  to  anyone, — I  thought  that 
would  be  my  part.  .  .  .  Angus  was  just  as  disagree- 
able," Mrs.  Gibbs  concluded  her  account,  "  in  refusing 
Charles'  money.  On  stilts  at  once, — Ashwin's  daughter! 
— would  not  hear  of  it, — after  having  insulted  him  up 
and  down.  Attitudinizing  to  the  last, — and  a  man  like 
that  sitting  down  under  it, — that's  what  incensed  me," 
said  Mrs.  Gibbs. 

"  Claude's  too  well-bred,"  said  Agatha.  "  Pernickety. 
It's  a  drawback  in  his  profession,  and  he  admits  it.  He 
can't  conceal  the  fact  he  is  several  other  things  besides  a 
doctor,  and  the  old  stagers  such  as  Angus  don't  like  it. 
So  they  treat  him  as  a  dabbler,  to  pay  him  out.  It's 
natural,  if  you  come  to  think." 

"  He's  too  modest,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs.  "  He  said  it  was 
not  his  department  when  I  entreated  him  to  interfere. 
Well,  it  may  not  be,  though  really  I  doubt  it.  In  any 
case,  I  can't  help  thinking,  at  the  crucial  points  of  our 
existence,  a  brain  and  a  heart  are  the  things  that  mat- 
ter, and  he  is  over-burdened  with  both.  So  is  she." 


342  DUKE  JONES 

"  You've  gone  under  to  Claude,"  said  Agatha,  glancing 
at  her.  "  But  I  don't  call  it  a  virtue  to  let  yourself  be 
put  upon.  Men  can't  afford  it  in  these  days.  My  theory 
is,  Claude's  had  such  practice  at  home  in  keeping  his 
temper,  that  now  it's  become  a  habit,  and  he  can't  let  it 
go  when  he  should.  He  has  one,  thunder  and  lightning, 
— or  used  to  have ;  but  it's  so  useless,  with  Eveleen,  that 
he  has  discarded  it.  He  seems  lifeless  to  me  now,  com- 
pared with  what  he  was  five  years  since." 

Mrs.  Gibbs  was  silent :  but  the  name  had  been  spoken, 
and  her  foot  pressed  the  grass.  Agatha  waited  a  moment, 
and  then  swung  on  her. 

"  How  far,"  she  demanded,  "  can  Eveleen  be  regarded 
as  responsible?  John  will  slay  me  if  I  cannot  tell  him 
that." 

"  Really,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs,  "  I  cannot  say  I  have  felt 
curious.  She  dislikes  me  particularly,  which  may  be  why 
I  have  seen  no  sign  of  her.  She  was  not  content  with 
leaving  undone  the  things  she  ought  to  have  done, — she 
completed  the  Prayer  Book.  She  made  the  girl  wretched, 
that's  a  certainty, — and  I  hear, — it  may  be  a  lie, — she 
slandered  Charles." 

"Just  so,"  said  Agatha,  with  one  glance  at  her  face. 
Agatha  also  was  the  mother  of  a  single  son.  "  Well,  we 
had  best  not  speak  of  her."  A  pause,  while  she  kept  this 
excellent  resolution.  "  John  says  Eveleen's  unique,  and 
I  answer  I  hope  she  is.  She's  made  enough  misery  for 
two  women,  anyhow.  You  have  not  perhaps  the  ill- 
fortune  to  know  the  grip  she  has,  or  had.  I  should 
expect  to  see  half  London  in  mourning  if  Eveleen  died, 
— flags  at  half-mast,  and  so  on.  On  my  word,  I  believe 
it  is  her  genuine  indifference  does  it, — she  never  was  what 
I  call  beautiful  at  all.  She  imposes,  in  all  senses.  .  .  . 
Now  I  understand,"  broke  out  Agatha,  still  not  speaking 
of  Eveleen ;  "  a  man  making  a  fool  of  himself  about  a 
fine  horse:  he  gets  something  for  his  money.  But  a 
woman  like  that,  shorn  of  brains  and  principles  from 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  343 

birth,  wallowing  in  comfort  at  the  expense  of  a  first-rate 
man  whose  life  she's  ruined, — no,  I  can't  see  it  if  John 
does.  Perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Ingestre  thoughtfully,  "  I  am 
prejudiced  too." 

"  Anyhow,  we  are  free  of  her  for  the  moment,"  said 
Mrs.  Gibbs  quietly.  "  She  has  gone  abroad." 

"  Won't  face  her  husband,"  said  Agatha.  "  So  they 
say  in  the  town.  She  must  know  what  she's  done,  then, 
— it's  a  flat  confession.  I  mean  if  it's  the  case  she  has 
not  been  back  since  the  night." 

"  It  is  the  case.  I  only  hope  he  is  quit  of  her  for  good, 
but  I  greatly  doubt  it." 

"  John  doubts  if  he  wants  to  be,"  said  Agatha  dryly. 

Once  more  Mrs.  Gibbs  fell  silent,  and  set  her  lips  in 
that  self-contained  manner  of  hers.  Those  who  pass 
through  trouble  in  company  grow  intimate  perforce,  and 
she  had  got  a  long  way  in  the  Ashwin  affairs,  much 
further  in  all  directions  than  the  Ingestres,  who,  in  spite 
of  all,  were  interested  in  Eveleen  chiefly.  Mrs.  Gibbs 
had  found  Eveleen's  husband  worth  study  as  well.  She 
had  never  really  known  him  before,  and  had  herself 
rather  repelled  him  by  her  manner.  But  now  they  had 
Violet  between  them  as  interpreter,  which  made  all  the 
difference;  a  common  anxiety  and  a  common  devotion 
had  united  them.  Once  his  shyness  was  broken,  Claude 
talked  easily,  and  what  he  omitted  from  modesty  or 
diffidence  Violet  supplied. 

He  had  told  Mrs.  Gibbs,  with  the  simplicity  of  a  de- 
cision long-made,  that  if  his  wife  obliged  him  to  divorce 
her,  not  otherwise,  he  would  immediately  retire.  When 
she  protested,  horror-struck  almost,  as  anyone  who  knew 
his  great  reputation  would  protest,  she  discovered  it  was 
not  only  his  desire,  but  his  dream  to  do  so.  His  book, — 
quitted  in  bulk  at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  and  only 
touched  from  time  to  time  as  his  professional  work  grew 
thicker, — had  now  lain  fallow  for  years,  and  his  single 
ideal  of  happiness  was  to  return  to  it.  He  could  not  bear 

t 


344  DUKE  JONES 

consulting  really, — Violet  told  her  that,  to  her  equal 
amazement. ,  Violet  informed  her,  when  they  discussed 
the  subject,  that  he  spent  himself,  literally,  on  personal 
interviews, — his  pulse  altered,  he  had  confided  to  his 
daughter,  during  a  delicate  one.  The  common  human 
exchange,  exaggerated  to  his  sensitiveness,  exhausted 
him  more  than  the  most  critical  operation  to  perform. 
No  one  but  Violet  had  ever  had  it  so  stated  in  words, 
though  a  few  of  the  more  friendly  suspected  it.  It  was 
the  student-nature,  forced  into  the  battle  against  its  will ; 
and  it  was  his  wife, — the  sheer  necessity  of  making  a 
position  for  her  in  the  world's  eye, — that  had  forced 
him.  Custom  had  eased  it,  to  a  certain  degree.  Fame 
had  come  to  sweeten  it,  to  use  the  trite  phrase,  as  surely 
as  wealth  had  come.  But  he  loved  neither, — it  was  not, 
and  never  had  been,  the  fame  of  his  desire.  He  had 
talked  of  the  society  who  pampered  him,  for  a  whole 
evening  to  Mrs.  Gibbs,  with  the  bitterness  of  a  man  who 
knows  himself  wasted.  And  he  knew  where  his  talents 
lay.  There  is  no  altering  the  book-maker,  he  had  said 
with  his  slight  laugh  to  her  at  parting,  even  though  the 
book  is  never  made.  He  had  a  strong  persuasion  now 
that  it  never  would  be,  for  all  Violet's  entreaties.  She 
and  Hubert  Ford  had  both  promised,  with  a  like  ardor, 
to  save  him  all  the  drudgery,  but  still  he  remained  skep- 
tical. Eveleen  had  entered  the  lists  against  that  book, 
and  she  suffered  no  rivalry.  Eveleen  was  still  in  the 
world — and  all  was  said.  It  was  a  singular, — to  Mrs. 
Gibbs  most  significant, — acknowledgment  of  Eveleen's 
power. 

Mrs.  Ingestre  know  nothing  of  all  this:  nor  would 
she,  at  that  time,  have  been  interested  to  know ;  and  her 
companion  had  no  thought  of  telling  her.  It  was  Mrs. 
Gibbs,  after  an  interval,  who  returned  to  Violet. 

"  I  was  to  thank  you  for  the  flowers,"  she  said  sud- 
denly. "  I  am  forgetting  my  commissions,  and  manners 
too."  She  considered  a  minute.  "  It  is  so  kind,"  she 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  345 

said,  "  to  send  colored  flowers.  Nobody  else  did.  Color 
keeps  the  soul  awake, — I  think  that  was  it.  She  cannot 
bear  blank  things — resignation." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Agatha.  "That's  herself:  I  shall 
tell  John.  She  shall  have  all  the  colors  in  my  conserva- 
tory, I  know  that.  .  .  .  Look  here,  why  can  I  not 
see  her  ?  I  shall  do  her  no  more  harm  than  the  boy." 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs  composedly. 
"  Charles  is  rather  clever.  Sir  Claude  lets  him  see  her 
for  a  quarter  or  half  an  hour  a  day,  according  as  she 
can  bear  it.  He  saves  up  the  wildest  nonsense  to  tell 
her — I  think  he  must  have  been  practicing  lately.  Charles 
always  did  have  a  taste  for  romancing,  but  I  never 
thought  he  would  find  a  use  for  it.  It  is  absolutely 
useful,  for  she  is  accustomed  to  following  him,  and  it 
does  not  tire  her  over  much.  Besides,"  said  Charles' 
mother,  "  she  supposes  he  is  happy,  for  the  time." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Mrs.  Ingestre.  "  She  was  apologetic 
to  your  son  ?  Perhaps  I  should  say  remorseful  ?  " 

"  Apologetic  is  much  better,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs.  "  The 
finest  kind  of  apology,  kings  and  queens.  Charles  told  me 
after  the  first  time  that  he  could  not  bear  it,  and  I  saw 
he  could  not,  so  I  warned  her  against  the  manner.  Then 
she  became  more  careful  of  his  feelings.  She  probably 
trusts  now  she  is — excusable,  in  Charles'  eyes.  .  .  . 
It  may  be  natural,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs,  after  a  pause. 

"The  manner?  It  is,  John  believes.  That  'grand 
air '  is,  in  the  rare  cases,  not  a  manner  of  speech  but  a 
manner  of  thought:  though  it  will  be  banned  as  affecta- 
tion," said  Agatha,  "  to  the  end  of  time." 

"  I  always  considered  her  a  little  affected,"  said  Mrs. 
Gibbs;  but  Agatha  thought  she  used  the  past  tense 
deliberately.  She  was  a  woman  who  saved  words,  and 
Agatha  had  been  at  some  pains  to  draw  out  even  the  in- 
formation she  had  now  collected.  But  it  was,  as  she 
expected,  the  useful  information ;  she  had  at  once,  in  this 
quarter,  the  things  she  wanted. 


346  DUKE  JONES 

She  would  gladly  have  talked  longer  and  discovered 
more,  but  soon  after  this,  three  people  simultaneously 
demanded  Mrs.  Gibbs'  presence  in  the  house,  and  Mrs. 
Ingestre,  finally  worsted  in  her  private  quest  of  an  inter- 
view with  the  girl,  had  to  go. 

On  the  doorstep  she  encountered  Claude,  who  was 
leaving  also,  in  the  direction  of  his  next  engagement,  and 
inveigled  him,  with  some  difficulty,  into  her  carriage ;  but 
in  the  course  of  a  couple  of  miles'  drive  she  got  nothing 
of  value  out  of  him.  The  subject  of  Lisette  he  treated 
lightly:  the  subject  of  his  wife  he  dodged  with  an  ad- 
dress that,  to  Agatha's  overwhelming  curiosity,  seemed 
absolutely  fiendish.  He  did  not  appear  to  be  aware  that 
all  London — Agatha's  London — was  talking  of  him,  and 
that  it  was  serious.  Serious  for  the  Ingestres,  of  course, 
— momentous,  since  Eveleen  was  no  casual  offshoot  of 
the  tree.  Eveleen's  husband  remained  polite  throughout, 
which  was  more  than  could  be  said  for  Agatha ;  and  she 
dismissed  him  finally  from  her  equipage  at  the  gate  of 
the  park  with  the  information  that  he  was  hopeless. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Claude,  with  a  spark  of  chaffing  de- 
fiance that  told  her  more  than  all  the  elaborate  fencing 
that  had  preceded  it,  and  went.  Agatha,  half-offended 
and  half-diverted,  went  home,  considering  him. 

"  He's  doing  everything  for  Felicia,"  she  said  to  John, 
when  retailing  the  results  of  these  interviews ;  "  admires 
her,  you  would  say, — but  he  will  not  take  her  seriously." 

"  What's  the  young  fellow, — solvent  ?  "  said  John. 

"  Solid,"  said  Agatha.  "  Solid  all  round,  Claude  says. 
But  he  barely  seemed  to  regard  Lisette  as  an  element  in 
the  case, — hardly  as  a  person  at  all.  He  might  have  been 
talking  of  one  of  his  pictures, — rather  a  good  one, — 
when  he  alluded  to  her.  He  certainly  doesn't  want  to 
give  her  up  to  anybody.  His  expressions,"  said  Agatha 
pensively,  "  were  extraordinary.  I  never  know  what 
Claude's  at  when  he  gets  into  that  mood,  impish  and 
idle.  He  seemed  to  say  the  first  thing  that  came  up, — 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  347 

and  the  first  thing  was  frequently  very  good.  He  evi- 
dently did  not  want  to  drive  in  the  park, — the  crowded 
end, — looked  shockingly  ill,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
scenery.  At  least,  he  made  remarks  on  it  when  I  asked 
him  about  other  things.  Any  other  man,  I  should  have 
said  he  had  been  drinking.  I  told  him  so.  It  may  be 
simply  relief  at  Eveleen's  departure,  of  course,  and 
Violet's  society.  But " 

"  But  it  is  hardly  the  bearing  to  adopt  to  us,"  was  what 
Agatha  thought,  though  she  avoided  the  ill-taste  of  utter- 
ing it  in  words.  Eveleen's  family  could  never  quite 
escape  from  that  attitude  to  Claude  Ashwin,  which  they 
had  assumed  with  such  freezing  effect  at  the  time  of  his 
marriage.  It  was  hardly  worthy  of  the  man  they  had 
allowed  to  marry  Eveleen,  to  treat  her  abandonment  of 
his  hearth  and  protection  so  easily, — if  he  did;  nor  to 
show  such  arrogant  indifference  to  the  question,  thrilling 
all  the  echoes  of  Lady  Ashwin's  haunts  in  town,  as  to 
which  of  many  possible  rivals  held  the  field.  The  fact 
of  her  sudden  flight,  almost  unprovided,  immediately 
after  her  brilliant  appearance  at  the  Elkington  reception, 
was  public  property:  and  it  was  hastily  assumed,  by  all 
those  who  had  Eveleen's  dignity  at  heart,  tha*t  some  man 
was  backing  her. 

That  this  shadowy  man  did  not  exist  John  would  be 
sincerely  sorry  to  believe;  yet,  as  he  gathered  up  the 
evidence  on  this  immensely  important  question,  limping 
down  the  steps  of  one  well-instructed  authority  and  up 
the  steps  of  another,  doubts  began  to  assail  him  that  his 
cousin's  dignity  was  involved.  It  was  borne  in  upon 
John  that  Eveleen  was  "  shirking,"  and,  in  private  with 
Agatha, .he  went  so  far  as  to  use  the  term.  He  had 
noted  here  and  there  about  her  life  that  his  cousin  Eve- 
leen was  "  slack," — useless  to  deny  it :  and  from  "  slack- 
ing "  to  "  shirking  "  is  not  really  so  long  a  step.  Yet 
between  the  two,  for  an  Ingestre,  there  is  a  deep  gulf 
fixed,  not  least  when  what  she  shirks  is  the  fruit  of  her 


348  DUKE  JONES 

own  misdoing.  At  moments  John  had  a  sharp  fear,  as 
bad  as  a  twinge  of  his  gout,  that  Eveleen,  oblivious  of 
all  she  owed  to  herself  and  him,  would  yet  drag  his  name 
in  the  dust,  as  little  Lisette,  for  all  her  recklessness  and 
misfortune,  had  failed  to  drag  it.  These  were  anxious 
moments  when  they  occurred. 

"  I'd  like  to  take  that  little  girl  into  counsel,"  said 
John  at  the  window,  thoughtfully  scratching  his  chin. 
"  She  probably  knows  a  thing  or  two,  and  she's  as  sharp 
as  the  deuce  for  an  expedient." 

Agatha  did  not  suppose  he  was  alluding  to  Lisette; 
but  she  threw  copious  cold  water  on  his  hopes  of  seeing 
Violet.  So  John  had  to  take  the  remaining  alternative, 
far  less  palatable,  and  consider  whether  at  the  worst  he 
could  lay  his  majesty  aside  for  an  hour  or  two,  drive  to 
Harley  Street,  and  appeal  formally  to  Claude.  It  had 
struck  John  while  he  stayed  in  their  comfortable  house 
that  the  man  who  had  married  Eveleen,  and  suffered  so 
freely  at  her  hands,  knew  her  quite  as  well  as  he  did 
himself,  even  better  perhaps  on  certain  sides;  and  he 
had  a  curious  conviction  that,  even  now,  when  she  had 
turned  her  back  on  him  publicly,  leaving  him  a  prey  to 
all  the  flies  of  gossip  he  most  detested,  Claude  could 
whistle  her  back  at  will. 

Agatha's  recent  description  of  his  nonchalant  bearing 
in  the  carriage  strengthened  this  suspicion  in  John's 
mind ;  exactly  how,  he  could  not  say.  Whatever  might 
be  said  of  it  from  their  own  point  of  view,  it  was  not 
the  bearing  of  a  man  who  had  any  doubts  of  his  mastery. 
Besides,  Claude  had  such  a  tiresome  way,  in  John's  expe- 
rience, of  suddenly  disclosing  his  mastery  of  subjects  by 
no  means  in  the  direct  line  of  his  life's  business, — why 
not  of  his  wife,  who  certainly  might  be  said  to  be  ?  Once 
more,  it  was,  for  Eveleen's  admirers,  an  uncomfortable 
thought. 

"  She's  got  used  to  him,"  reasoned  John,  when  they  had 
left  the  subject  and  come  back  to  it  about  a  dozen  times. 
"  And  that  means  a  lot,  to  Eveleen." 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  349 

"  She  has  also  got  used  to  his  motors,"  said  Agatha, 
"  and  his  money.  That  means  still  more." 

"  She  could  get  them  elsewhere,"  said  John.  "  I've 
an  idea  the  man's  harder  to  find,  and  I've  an  idea  that 
she  knows  it,  d  la  fin.  Eveleen  always  had  an  unearthly 
flair  for  her  own  interest,  at  a  crisis — look  at  the  way 
she  stuck  to  her  notion  of  marrying  him,  in  the  first 
place.  We  didn't  exactly  give  her  an  easy  time.  .  .  . 
She'll  think  it  out,  if  he  gives  her  leisure,  in  the  water- 
places:  she'll  have  a  few  other  men  to  look  at  there. 
Then  it  will  be  a  truce,  I  greatly  fear, — with  honors  to 
him.  All  the  honors.  ...  I  greatly  fear  it,"  said 
John,  limping  about  quite  nervously. 

And  John  was  right.  The  great  house  of  Ingestre 
had,  in  virtue  of  the  ultimate  proceedings  of  Lady  Ash- 
win,  to  admit  flat  defeat.  It  was  long, — many  years, — 
before  they  realized  how  complete  and  crushing,  in  all  its 
bearings,  was  their  defeat  at  Claude's  hands,  for  he  was 
careful  of  their  feelings;  but  Eveleen's  first  action  was 
enough  for  John.  Her  own  interest  became  so  clear 
to  her,  as  he  prophesied,  in  the  leisure  of  the  various 
watering-places,  that,  after  lengthy  pondering,  frequently 
postponed  and  interrupted,  upon  the  important  theme, 
Eveleen  did  an  absolutely  unheard-of  thing, — a  thing  she 
had  not  done  for  a  dozen  years.  She  wrote  to  Claude. 

in 

He  brought  the  letter  to  Violet  one  spring  Sunday 
morning,  as  she  lay  in  the  idleness  of  convalescence  by 
the  open  window  of  her  room.  He  entered  quietly  as 
his  manner  was,  and  she  did  not  disturb  her  peaceful 
attitude,  for  she  was  well-accustomed  by  now  to  his 
noiseless,  rapid  visits, — observations  of  her,  so  to  speak, 
between  his  other  duties, — and  to  his  presence  about  the 
room.  His  tricks  were  quite  unlike  the  tricks  of  all  her 
other  doctors,  Violet  had  told  him  several  times ;  but 
they  were  not  objectionable  to  the  patient,  evidently, 
since  she  took  no  account  of  them. 


350  DUKE  JONES 

As  he  advanced  to  her  side,  still  without  a  word,  and 
extended  the  letter,  she  turned  with  a  little  start.  Her 
faint  color  just  showed  as  she  saw  the  writing  upon  it. 

"  I  am  to  read  it  ?  "  she  said,  looking  at  his  face. 

"  To  be  sure.    It  is  your  affair." 

"Mine,  Father?" 

"  Read  it,"  he  said  simply.    "  You  will  see." 

She  read  it  through,  her  color  wavering ;  for  it  seemed 
to  her  an  exquisitely  intimate  proceeding,  to  plunge,  thus 
unforewarned,  into  the  worst  problem  of  his  life;  the 
problem  which  she  had  only  dared  at  intervals,  and 
always  when  he  led  the  way,  to  touch. 

The  letter  was  equally  stupid  and  stately, — stately  as 
she  could  not  avoid  being  in  her  superb  egoism,  her  un- 
feigned indifference  to  the  opinion  of  God  and  man.  It 
was  that,  as  Agatha  said,  that  mowed  the  world  down 
in  front  of  Eveleen;  for,  poor  things  that  we  are,  we 
can  none  of  us  avoid  the  belief,  the  hope  at  least,  that 
the  truly  indifferent  have  the  secret  that  we  look  for  in 
vain.  It  was  a  confession  too;  for,  in  three  or  four  ill- 
framed  childish  sentences,  she  convicted  herself,  in  the 
effort  to  clear,  of  the  crime  with  which  he  had  never 
charged  her.  She  knew  what  she  had  done  by  some  in- 
stinct, brute  instinct  if  you  will.  She  had  known  it  long, 
known  it  in  essence  since  the  night  when,  having  shifted 
her  responsibilities  finally  upon  a  girl  whom  she  admitted 
in  words  to  be  unfit  to  bear  them,  she  left  Violet's  house. 

Having  so  confessed,  she  repeated  the  original  offense. 
She  insulted  her  daughter  by  the  form  of  her  condol- 
ences, and  could  not  keep  her  pen,  which  followed  her 
thoughts,  away  from  Charles'  name.  Her  chaffing, 
pleasantly  done  in  life,  became  incredibly  awkward,  vul- 
gar and  brutal  upon  paper,  at  least  to  Claude's  idea ;  and 
observing  Violet  from  his  station  at  the  window,  he  saw 
her  delicate  brows  set  once  or  twice. 

Lastly,  Lady  Ashwin  complained, — grumbled.  In  the 
concluding  portion,  she  said  she  was  not  well, — sleeping 


,THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT.  351 

badly.  She  had  seen  a  doctor  at  Pau.  That  was  really 
why  she  had  come  abroad, — people  chattered  about  such 
things  in  London.  She  supposed  Claude  would  say  he 
was  too  busy  or  something  to  come  out, — though  lots  of 
people  they  knew  were  there.  If  he  refused  to  move, 
she  did  not  see  how  she  could  do  otherwise  than  return 
to  London  again.  She  would  go  to  John's,  if  he  wanted. 
Things  in  general  were  a  great  bore.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  mania,"  said  Violet  at  the  end.  She  used  her 
definite  tone,  because  the  thing  had  become  clear  to  her, 
and  folding  the  letter  neatly,  laid  it  down.  "  It  is  far 
better  to  admit  it,  and  be  done." 

"  I  have  long  admitted  it,"  said  Claude,  "  but  I  am 
not  done.  The  admission  does  not  help." 

"  I  think  it  helps.  Personally,  I  would  loosen  you  in- 
stantly, Father, — it  is  incredible  you  should  be  asked 
to  bear  it, — except  for  that." 

"  The  honor  of  the  profession,"  he  said,  with  a  faint 
smile,  glancing  round  at  her. 

She  nodded.  "  The  thing  before  your  name,  and  the 
things  after  it.  All  the  things  we  are  proudest  of."  She 
seized  the  hand  hanging  in  reach.  "  Most  unluckily, 
darling,  you  can  help." 

"  Most  unluckily,  I  can.  I  had  already  thought  of  it. 
It  was  the  last  of  my  thoughts,  so  I  might  guess  it  would 
be  the  first  of  yours." 

"  Is  that  flattering,  or  otherwise?  I'm  afraid  it  doesn't 
bear  looking  into.  Tell  me  what  your  first  thought  was." 

"  What  should  it  be  ?  "  he  answered,  turning  brusquely. 
"  You,  my  love, — and  Charles.  I  have  more  than  once 
felt  guilty  towards  him." 

"  You  wasted  your  pains,  then,"  said  Violet.  "  Let  us 
alone,  please.  We  don't  want  you, — we  shall  do.  You 
will  see,  Mother  will  get  used  to  us  as  well.  It  is  not 
insoluble,  Father, — there  are  always  ways."  She  took 
up  the  document  again,  to  consider  ways,  and  laid  it 
down  suddenly.  "You  can't  leave  her  like  that, — it's 


352  DUKE  JONES 

not  to  be  thought  of.  You  must  be  very  happy,  quickly, 
in  a  scrawl.  Mustn't  you?  It  is  the  only  way." 

"  You  think  so?"  he  said,  pondering  over  the  lines. 

"  I  do,  yes.  I  am  feeling  impatient  about  it, — bad  for 
me.  It's  bad  for  me,  Father.  .  .  .  No,  give  it  me 
again.  You  know  it  all  by  heart  by  this  time." 

Once  more  she  went  through  the  thing,  sentence  by 
sentence,  considering  it. 

"  It  is  very,  very  difficult,"  she  said  dreamily.  "  As 
bad  as  the  most  fearful  sum.  I  wish  Honoria  was  here 
to  help  me, — but  I  can  see  one  thing.  She  is  not  safe 
without  you,  and  she  knows  it.  I  can't  see  beyond  that." 

"You  think  she  knows  it?"  he  asked,  laying  hands 
once  more,  quite  mechanically,  upon  the  evidence.  It  was 
comical  almost,  their  fine  brains  beating  themselves 
against  those  blunt,  ill-considered  phrases  in  turn,  and 
returning  baffled  every  time  to  consult  with  one  another. 

"  Of  course  she  does.  The  whole  text  of  that, — the 
fact  of  her  writing,  even, — is  a  confession  of  weakness, 
for  Mother.  Pitiable, — horrid!  She  has  been  alarmed. 
I  am  afraid,  dearest,  whenever  the  last  time  was,  you 
alarmed  her.  You  trampled  a  little,  didn't  you?  You 
do  when  you  forget." 

"  Whenever  the  last  time  was,"  he  said,  "  I  intended 
to  trample,  and  alarm  her  too." 

"Oh,  did  you  lose  it,  really?"  She  laughed  up  at 
him  sidelong,  her  cheek  upon  her  hand.  "  Lose  it  quite  ?  " 

"  All  of  it,"  said  Claude,  "  and  there  was  more  than  I 
thought.  It  was  all  gone  before  I  knew.  It  was  before 
seven  on  a  cold  wet  morning,  which  may  be  some  ex- 
cuse." 

"  Had  you  slept  badly, — poor  man  ?  " 

"  No, — well,"  he  said  vigorously.  "  That  was  it.  And 
you  had  been  out  all  night."  His  voice  grew  fierce  at  the 
recollection,  and  he  laid  a  protecting  hand  upon  her  as 
she  lay. 

"  Don't  scold  me  any  more,"  she  said  beneath  her 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  353 

breath,  "  for  the  things  I  did  before  I  grew  up.  I  really 
didn't  know.  I — never  should  again." 

"Would  you  not?"  he  said,  his  fingers  caressing  her 
absently.  "  I  am  not  so  sure.  You  have  not  grown  up 
so  completely  yet, — I  trust." 

"  I  am  very  old,"  said  Violet,  with  gravity, — looking 
very  young.  Mrs.  Gibbs  had  tied  her  hair  back  in  the 
fashion  of  her  girlhood,  which  delighted  Claude.  He 
had  always  declared  it  was  the  only  fashion  that  suited 
her,  those  drooping,  nymph-like  lines.  She  had  exactly 
her  old  elf-look  again,  as  she  lay  sidelong  on  the  pillow, 
her  cheek  on  her  folded  hands.  It  was  a  pale  cheek 
still,  but  it  had  regained  its  pretty  contour,  by  dint  of 
Mrs.  Gibbs'  and  Mason's  vigorous  efforts.  The  terrible 
sharp  look  that  had  haunted  Charles  in  the  first  weeks  of 
her  recovery  had  departed,  with  the  other  unnatural  signs 
of  the  long  agony,  during  most  of  which,  as  she  was 
under  drugs,  they  could  not  feed  her,  only  keep  her  alive. 

Now  Violet  was  quite  contented  with  life  again,  she 
told  them,  and  enjoyed  her  dinner  immensely.  She  had 
found  some  trees  to  gaze  at,  by  means  of  careful  search- 
ing among  the  chimneys,  and  the  tulips  below  her  win- 
dow were  looking  beautiful,  though  faded  in  parts. 
Charles  said  they  were  a  disgusting  sight  from  the  din- 
ing-room, and  threatened  daily  to  cut  them  off  with  his 
dinner-knife:  but  from  Violet's  point  of  view  they  were 
quite  effective  still.  She  had  just  made  up  her  mind, 
during  an  hour  of  laborious  thought,  to  set  white  crocuses 
in  the  grass  next  year.  Charles  said  yellow  ones,  for  the 
sake  of  contradiction ;  but  she  had  quite  determined  upon 
white  ones,  with  heavenly  orange  tongues  amid  delicate 
shadows  when  you  looked  inside.  She  had  also  talked 
at  length  to  Charles  about  the  weather:  having  refused, 
at  his  request,  to  save  it  up  for  Jones. 

Now,  since  her  father  was  with  her,  and  seemed  to  be 
thinking,  she  started  the  theme  afresh,  dreamily. 

"  It's  Sunday,  isn't  it?— it  ought  to  be." 


354  DUKE  JONES 

"  It  is,"  said  Claude,  in  a  tone  to  match.  "  You  ought 
to  be  out,  my  dear:  right  out  in  the  country.  It  is 
incredible." 

"  Incredible,"  said  Violet.  "  It  was  just  as  incredible 
last  May,  but  we  have  forgotten.  I  remember  a  day,  a 
nice  one,  I  drove  with  Mother  to  hunt  clothes.  Mother 
hunted  my  clothes  extremely  well,  when  she  gave  her 
mind  to  it.  We  dawdled  a  little,  because  it  was  so 
delicious,  looking  at  the  ducks  in  the  park.  We  did  noth- 
ing to  speak  of  before  lunch, — Mother  is  rather  nice  to 
do  nothing  with.  .  .  .  Poor  Mother." 

"  Well,"  said  Claude,  after  a  pause,  "  that  means  I  am 
to  relent  to  her,  does  it, — that  last  remark?  Open  my 
doors  to  her,  at  least.  Forgive  her,  I  will  not." 

"  Yes,  you  will,  Father  darling :  by  degrees.  Don't 
speak  in  that  tone,  it  annoys  me."  She  put  a  hand  over 
her  ear,  which  was  really  not  visible,  owing  to  the  elf-like 
hair;  and  once  more  Claude  laid  his  protecting  hand  right 
over  hers,  ear  and  all. 

"  I  will  not,"  he  repeated,  less  violently.  "  There  are 
things  a  man  should  not  forgive.  But  you  are  welcome 
to."  He  bent  to  look  into  her  shy  gray  eyes,  which  slid 
sidelong  once,  and  slipped  instantly  again  from  his. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  any  more,"  she  said  in  confidence. 
"  I'm  thinking." 

"  I  don't  allow  it, — not  real  thinking,"  he  answered  as 
gently.  "  Give  your  mind  to  the  sun." 

Violet  tried  this  prescription.  She  thought  of  the  sun 
for  five  minutes, — nothing  else  at  all. 

"  Your  book,  dearest,"  she  then  observed. 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,"  said  the  doctor  hastily. 
"  You  need  not.  I  will  write  it  in  odd  times." 

"  You  haven't  many,  have  you  ?  "  said  his  daughter 
delicately.  She  tried  the  sun  again,  for  inspiration.  "  I 
think  the  best  thing  for  you,"  she  said,  in  the  voice  of 
dreams,  "  would  be  to  have  a  breakdown,  like  Honoria's. 
A  solemn  one,  for  a  year.  Nobody  would  be  the  least 
surprised,  considering  what  you  have  looked  like  these 


THE  NARRATORS  AT  FAULT  355 

last  weeks.  The  King  would  be  sincerely  sorry, — second 
or  third-hand, — the  newspapers  would  learn  of  it  on  good 
authority, — and  the  book  would  get  ahead." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Sir  Claude.  "  That  is  ingenious.  But 
I  have  my  doubts  if  your  mother  would  approve." 

"  Mother  would  stay  with  Cousin  John,  meanwhile. 
Some  of  the  nicest  doctors  of  your  acquaintance  would 
tell  her  you  were  much  too  ill  to  be  disturbed,  and  she 
would  take  good  care  not  to  go  near  you.  The  nicest 
doctors  would  come  to  tea  with  me  first,  Father,  just  to 
learn  the  facts." 

"Milford  Angus?"  said  Claude. 

It  was  a  legitimate  subject  of  scoffing  in  the  house- 
hold that  Sir  Milford  Angus  had  called  to  see  how  Violet 
was,  and  had  remained  to  tea  with  her,  and  been  taught 
for  at  least  an  hour,  according  to  Violet,  how  to  behave. 
She  said,  like  most  intolerable  people,  he  was  only  intol- 
erable on  the  surface,  and  heavily  sentimental  under- 
neath. How  she  discovered  this  interesting  fact  Charles 
could  not  extract  from  his  mother,  nor  Claude  from  her. 
Violet  still  disliked  Sir  Milford  Angus,  as  she  explained, 
on  principle:  but  it  was  too  evident  that  his  principles 
did  not  prevent  him  from  liking  her. 

"  Can't  you  work  a  breakdown  ?  "  coaxed  Violet.  "  Do 
try.  Honoria  and  heaps  of  people  do  it  impressively. 
And  after  all,  you  must  know  better  than  anyone  the 
way  to  start." 

Sir  Claude  did  not  seem  to  see  his  way  to  a  break- 
down, however;  or  rather,  he  saw  his  way  so  well  that 
he  could  avoid  it,  and  had  been  doing  so  for  some  months 
past.  Doubtless  he  was  thus  able  to  avert  other  people's 
breakdowns  with  the  more  signal  success  during  the  years 
of  his  work  that  ensued.  He  looked  pensive,  to  Violet's 
eyes, — or  rather  eye,  turned  slyly  on  him  through  her 
hair  at  intervals, — distinctly  serious,  gazing  from  her 
window,  but  not  so  miserable  as  he  had  on  entering.  He 
was  possibly  planning  the  development  of  the  book,  with- 
out the  assistance  of  a  breakdown,  in  an  infinite  accumu- 


356  DUKE  JONES 

lation  of  odd  times.  He  folded  up  Eveleen's  letter  as 
he  pondered,  and  put  it  carefully  away. 

"  I  wish  I  could  get  you  out,  Puss,"  he  said.  "  But  I 
suppose,  as  things  are,  I  had  better  go  myself." 

"  As  things  are,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell,  "  it  is  Sunday :  a 
day  of  relaxation  for  the  wicked,  and  rest  for  the  good." 

"  I  am  relaxing,"  Claude  assured  her.  "  Shall  I  read 
to  you,  darling  ?  " 

"  No.  I  am  resting,  as  you  see."  She  shut  her  eyes. 
"  But  you  may  stay  about,  if  you  want  to,  and  think  out 
some  short,  really  clear  sentences  for  Mother — until 
Mamma  comes  in." 

Her  father  laughed,  being  taken  unaware  by  the  con- 
clusion :  exactly  as  Violet  had  intended  him  to  laugh,  so 
she  was  pleased.  She  immensely  enjoyed  obliging  him  to 
laugh,  and  often  planned  her  sentences  in  advance  with 
that  intent.  Her  brain  was  just  beginning  to  move  again, 
and  lift  her  from  the  inconceivable  morass  of  stupidity 
which  had  made  her  practically  useless,  from  the  social 
point  of  view,  during  the  weeks  gone  by.  Since  they  all 
came  and  talked  to  her  charmingly,  especially  Charles,  it 
was  humiliating  to  be  unable  to  produce  the  smallest 
sparkle  in  return.  She  said  "  no  "  and  "  yes  "  to  their 
remarks,  with  great  decision :  and  told  them  all  that  they 
were  clever,  or  kind,  as  the  case  might  be, — they  were 
frequently  both ;  but  she  felt  she  was  wanting,  at  the 
time:  and  it  was  regrettable  that  she  generally  thought 
of  the  right  answers,  afterwards,  when  they  were  gone. 

Thus  it  was  gratifying  to  be  able,  even  with  an  effort,  to 
make  people  laugh  again :  and  the  sun  in  the  garden  was 
to  be  thanked,  most  probably.  It  was  the  only  thing 
worth  doing  in  life,  Violet  thought  at  times ;  especially  as 
laughter,  like  mercy,  is  twice  blest :  and  he  who  presents 
it,  even  the  smallest  smile,  among  the  overpowering  sor- 
row of  the  world,  is  lifted  out  of  sorrow  too. 

So  she  made  them  laugh,  as  had  always  been  her  way: 
and  cried  in  secret,  when  she  was  "  a  fool." 


MAUD  357 

II 
MAUD 


CHARLES  always  won  his  bets  with  Margery, — unless  he 
won  them  for  her,  as  on  a  certain  celebrated  occasion 
when  he  discomfited  the  scoffers  by  becoming  engaged  to 
Miss  Ashwin  sooner  than  anyone  thought  at  all  probable, 
— and  the  wager  about  Marmaduke  Jones  was  no  excep- 
tion to  this  excellent  rule.  In  the  private  interview  be- 
tween Marmaduke  and  Violet,  over  the  preparation  of 
which  Charles  spent  the  most  elaborate  and  unnecessary 
pains,  since  it  might  easily  have  happened  casually,  with- 
out any  pains  at  all,  Jones  did  not  give  himself  away, 
but  Violet  saw  through  him.  The  only  thing  that  did  not 
fall  out  quite  in  accordance  with  Charles'  benevolent 
scheming,  was  Violet's  instant  humiliation  before  him, 
her  husband,  when  this  culpable  oversight  of  hers  was 
brought  home  to  her.  She  dodged  Charles  in  the  most 
unworthy  fashion,  and  compelled  him  yet  once  more  into 
a  state  of  unwilling  admiration  of  her  natural  guile:  as 
shall  be  seen. 

Jones,  touchingly  innocent,  a  lamb  for  the  shearing, 
the  mere  aspect  of  whom  should  have  made  Charles 
ashamed,  called  at  the  hour  suggested,  at  the  house  of 
his  dreams,  and  was  told  Mrs.  Shovell  was  in  the  garden. 
Jones  had  not  been  aware  there  was  a  garden  before, 
but  since  there  was  only  one  way  to  it,  through  a  green- 
painted  gate,  he  discovered  it  without  difficulty.  He 
could  also,  on  his  emergence  into  the  so-called  garden, 
see  all  there  was  of  it  at  once,  not  to  mention  all  its  occu- 
pants. Eavesdropping,  on  this  interesting  occasion,  even 
had  Mr.  Shovell  proposed  it,  would  have  been  impossible : 
even  the  shameless  manner  of  eavesdropping  practiced 
on  the  stage  would  have  been  difficult  within  its  bounds. 


358  DUKE  JONES 

The  occupants  of  this  garden,  or  stage,  were  three, — 
four,  rather.  Mrs.  Shovell  on  her  knees, — Jones  saw  her 
first, — engaged  with  a  trowel  on  a  border-edge;  Mr. 
Shovell  on  his  feet,  his  back  turned  completely  to  her, 
and  partly  to  Jones,  engaged — very  deeply,  as  was  evi- 
dent— with  an  extremely  pretty  young  lady,  of  a  counte- 
nance vaguely  angelic,  in  walking  costume  and  strong 
shoes,  who  was  lying  carelessly  across  a  deck-chair.  The 
fourth  occupant  was  a  young  terrier-dog,  of  Irish  extrac- 
tion, in  a  perfectly  idiotic  condition  of  excitement  and 
hilarity,  engaged— deeply  in  every  sense — in  frantic 
researches  for  a  lost  ideal,  possibly  a  bone,  in  every  cor- 
ner of  the  garden.  It  appeared,  by  the  subsequent 
dialogue,  to  be  one  of  the  terrier's  mistaken  ideals  that 
Mrs.  Shovell  was  replanting  in  the  bed. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  the  angelic  young  lady  in  the  chair, 
who  had  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  He  will  do  it.  I  can't 
manage  him  in  the  least." 

"  It's  only  his  fun,"  said  Charles,  consoling  her.  "  He 
thinks  he's  useful,  digging  potatoes.  Don't  cry,  anyhow, 
darling." 

"  He  was  so  funny,"  said  Charles'  companion.  "  It's 
Violet  who  ought  to  cry." 

"  She  will,  when  we're  gone,"  said  Charles.  "  She 
never  does,  in  public."  Jones  was  petrified  with  indig- 
nation at  the  words. 

"  He's  doing  it  again,"  said  the  angelic  young  lady. 
"  Over  in  that  corner, — I  feel  he  is, — I  daren't  look. 
Charlie,  you  really  might " 

"  She'll  see  to  it  when  we're  gone,"  said  Charles. 
"  That's  what  she's  good  for,  making  the  best  of  a  bad 
job,  you  know." 

"  You  ?  "  said  the  young  lady.  "  Poor  Violet !  Charlie, 
don't  be  a  goose." 

Exactly  in  what  manner  Shovell  was  a  goose  Jones  did 
not  see, — or  want  to,  since  it  was  too  evident  by  his  tone 
that  he  was  flirting  outrageously.  His  own  appearance, 


MAUD  359 

at  that  juncture,  broke  the  scene  short,  and  seemed  to  put 
both  the  actors  in  it  out  of  countenance,  as  was  natural. 
You  would  have  said  a  bucket  of  cold  water,  at  least  upon 
Margery  and  Charles. 

"  Er — how  are  you,  Jones  ?  "  said  Shovell,  rather  form- 
ally, with  a  face  of  gloom.  "  Violet " 

"  Oh,  what  a  comfort !  "  She  had  shot  in  front  of  her 
husband  before  he  could  look  round,  and,  trowel  in  one 
hand,  laid  the  other  on  Jones'  arm.  "  I  am  sure  you 
know  about  dogs.  Would  you  terribly  mind  calling  that 
little  dog  of  Lady  Brading's,  at  once?  She  can't  man- 
age him,  and  Charles  is  afraid.  It  does  look  like  rabies, 
but  it's  only  youth, — and  being  such  a  heavenly  day,  I 
do  feel  for  him.  But " 

Her  dramatic  hand  showed  the  devastation:  a  row  of 
springing  sweet  peas  laid  low. 

Now  Marmaduke  was  not  only  an  amateur  gardener 
of  the  frenzied  description  ordinarily  known  among  Sur- 
rey residents,  but  the  owner  and  trainer  of  several  most 
orderly  young  dogs:  thus,  quite  apart  from  everything 
else,  he  must  instantly  have  vowed  himself  to  her  service. 
But  beyond  that,  she  appealed  to  him  personally  as  a 
"  comfort "  !  And  beyond  even  that,  she  was  pale,  and 
her  lovely  eyes  piteous,  and  her  voice  tragic  even  to 
exaggeration, — and  her  husband  carelessly  devoting  him- 
self to  another  girl,  who  was,  too  evidently,  laughing  at 
the  catastrophe !  In  all  these  accumulating  conditions  to 
drive  a  simple  man  distracted,  all  Jones  could  do  was  to 
take  nine  steps, — which  exactly  brought  him  to  the  end  of 
the  garden,  dodge  that  terrier-puppy,  seize  him  with  one 
skilled  hand  by  all  his  loose  skin, — which  means  most  of 
the  dog,,  as  the  friends  of  puppies  know, — extract  from 
his  dripping  jaws  a  half-gnawed  lily-bulb,  and  bring  both 
bulb  and  dog  back  to  Mrs.  Shovell,  to  deal  with  as  she 
should  think  fit. 

"  Do  beat  him  for  me,"  said  Lady  Brading,  handker- 
chief in  hand.  "  I  so  hate  it, — and  Charlie  is  afraid." 


360  DUKE  JONES 

Their  accumulated  insults  had  not  the  faintest  effect  on 
Mr.  Shovell,  who  was  looking  on  at  Jones'  efforts  with  a 
complacent  smile:  much  as  though  Jones  was  his  prop- 
erty, and  was  behaving  rather  neatly  on  his  trial  trip, 
as  Charles  expected. 

"  Come  along,  Margery,"  he  remarked,  when  the  puppy 
had  not  been  beaten,  "  don't  slack  about.  We  have 
leagues  to  cover  ere  set  of  sun,  not  to  mention  a  train 
to  catch  in  eleven  minutes.  By  the  way,  I  haven't  intro- 
duced you,  have  I  ?  People  get  up,  to  be  introduced." 

"  I  needn't,"  murmured  Margery, — but  she  rose. 

Of  course,  neither  Jones  nor  Lady  Brading  had  the 
slightest  need  of  an  introduction,  beyond  the  mention  of 
the  name.  Everything  of  that  sort  had  been  done  in 
advance.  Margery  knew  everything  of  note  about  Mar- 
maduke  through  Charles, — more  than  she  wanted.  Jones 
knew  all  that  was  necessary  about  her,  namely  that  she 
was  Shovell's  stepsister,  and  Mrs.  Shovell's  first  cousin  on 
the  father's  side.  Her  name  had  been  flung  about  during 
the  railway  journey  from  the  West,  when  he  compiled, 
quite  involuntarily,  Violet's  family  history.  Of  course, 
if  she  was  a  kind  of  sister,  it  justified  Shovell's  manner 
to  her  more  or  less, — even  the  way  he  was  holding  her 
arm.  Besides,  her  soft  eyes  were  seraphically  innocent 
of  all  wrong,  and  when  Mrs.  Shovell  insinuated  her  hand 
into  the  other  arm,  she  shook  Charles  off  at  once;  so 
Jones  forgave  her,  by  degrees.  He  tried  not  to  listen  to 
the  girls'  conversation,  but  owing  to  Charles'  rapt  admira- 
tion of  his  stepsister,  and  the  view,  and  anything  but 
Jones,  he  heard  it  all. 

"  Come  back  and  see  Maud,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell  in 
confidence,  straightening  Margery's  tie,  which  hilarity  in 
the  chair  had  discomposed.  "  Charles  told  you  she  was 
coming,  didn't  he  ?  Isn't  it  breathless  ?  " 

"  It's  miraculous,"  said  Margery,  and  her  tone  was 
awed.  "  How  on  earth  did  you  do  it,  darling?  " 

"  I  am  really  not  quite  sure,"  said  Jones'  hostess,  still 


MAUD  361 

in  earnest  confidence.  "  I  think  it  must  be  what  Charles 
calls  a  conjugation  of  the  stars.  She  refused  me  twice 
in  the  autumn,  with  absolutely  no  excuse.  The  fowls  are 
not,  you  know :  they  would  lay  their  eggs  tidily,  just  the 
same.  They  couldn't  help  it,  since  Maud  has  brought 
them  up  and  taught  them  manners.  Nor  is  the  fact  that 
Maud  has  no  clothes, — that  is  a  reason  to  come  and  see 
me.  Now  it's  the  third  time, — just  like  a  fairy-tale, — 
and  she  is  coming !  Maud  is  to  rise  on  London  to-night." 

"  The  Maud  will  rise  in  the  extreme  west,"  said 
Charles  in  the  background,  "  paralyzing  the  astronomers." 

"  I  could  never  get  her,"  said  Margery,  "  even  for  a 
night.  Excuses  wasn't  the  word.  She  suspects  snares, 
even  when  Bob  is  away.  When  he's  at  home,  of  course, 
she  thinks  we  shall  take  her  to  Court  every  day,  and  ask 
the  Prime  Minister  to  meet  her.  It's  a  real  miracle, 
Violet, — just  like  you." 

"  I  simply  stared  at  the  post-card,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell. 
"  I  thought  I  must  have  overlooked  a  negative  some- 
where, but  Charles  looked  too." 

"  Bet  you  she'll  be  prevented  at  the  last  minute,"  said 
Charles  in  the  background.  "  Take  either  of  you  two 
to  one." 

"  Charles  doesn't  want  her,"  said  Violet.  "  He  says  I 
can't  want  looking  after  any  more,  and  he  is  sick  of 
female  fusses,  and  that  it's  rot.  Those  are  some  of  the 
things  he  says.  But,  of  course,  unless  Mamma  had  said 
that  to  Maud  about  my  necessitous  condition " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Lady  Brading,  nodding  secretly.  "  She 
knows  her." 

"  She  may,  of  course,  go  straight  back  to  Glasswell  by 
the  evening  train,"  said  Violet,  looking  piteous,  "  when 
she  finds  how  exuberantly  capable  I  am.  I  shall  have  to 
put  it  on,  I  am  afraid,  a  little.  Only  if  I  do,  Charles 
will  instantly  give  me  away.  That's  the  worst  of  him 
lately, — he  calls  it  nerves.  I  can  do  what  he  calls  the 
sofa-trick  beautifully,  though  the  bed-and-breakfast  has 


362  DUKE  JONES 

got  rusty  a  little.  Yet  I  think,  for  Maud,  I  must.  Don't 
you,  Margery  ?  Just  one  morning,  to  cheer  her." 

"  Do,  darling,"  said  Margery  earnestly.  Jones  noticed 
that  her  seraphic  eyes  were  very  tender,  as  she  clasped 
the  slighter  girl. 

"  It  is  only  the  debut  that  matters,"  said  Violet,  "  to 
get  her  well-planted,  like  a  pea.  After  that,  Maud  will 
grow  nicely  in  my  drawing-room,  for  weeks." 

Jones  listened  to  all  this,  astonished.  It  was  not  the 
presentation  of  Maud  that  astonished  him, — he  knew  all 
about  the  lady.  She  was  Lady  Brading's  sister,  the  elder 
Miss  Gibbs,  the  daughter  of  a  clergyman  in  the  country, 
somewhere  in  Kent,  Jones  believed.  It  was  Mrs.  Sho veil's 
references  to  herself  that  astonished  him,  for,  personally, 
he  thought  she  was  looking  far  from  exuberant, — hardly 
even  well.  It  was  true,  she  was  not  wrapped  in  a  shawl, 
as  he  vaguely  expected,  and  reclining  with  languid  eyes 
fixed  on  nothing  particular  in  the  distant  landscape, — her 
eyes  were  very  bright  indeed,  and  she  spoke  with  her 
accustomed  neat  rapidity.  She  was  not  even, — he  noticed 
it  with  a  nameless  thrill, — wearing  mourning.  Shovell 
wore  the  badges  of  sorrow  in  their  simplest  form,  but 
she  was  welcoming  summer  in  delicate  gray.  There  was 
not  a  touch  of  black  on  her  from  head  to  foot,  unless  her 
own  dark  hair:  for  her  little  feet  were  shod  in  a  dusky 
color,  the  color  of  peaty  soil,  that  made  Marmaduke 
think  at  once  of  the  velvety  sweet-pea  seeds  he  had  been 
putting  in  the  earth  that  morning.  Margery  remarked 
on  them  too,  just  before  Charles  dragged  her  away. 

"  Dear,  what  ducky  little  shoes.  Where  do  you  find 
things  ?  I  should  never  think  of  shoes  that  color " 

"  Which  is  why  you  don't  find  them,"  moralized 
Charles,  pulling  at  her  gently.  "  Shoes  the  color  of  every 
woman's  thoughts  are  to  be  found  in  London, — stockings 
too.  You  never  saw  anything  like  her  stockings " 

"  Will  you  be  quiet,  Charlie  ?  He's  too  awful,  isn't 
he,  Mr.  Jones?  That's  the  way  he's  going  on,  I  expect, 
and  I  shall  be  quite  helpless." 


MAUD  363 

So  Margery,  still  protesting,  was  practically  lifted  out 
of  the  garden  by  Mr.  Shovell,  in  the  direction  of  the 
train  they  must  have  missed.  Jones  was  certain  he  was 
too  familiar,  and  sensitive  witnesses  must  be  pained ;  but, 
obedient  to  direction,  he  went  with  the  pair  to  the  gate, 
listening  to  their  intimate  converse  all  the  way,  and 
carrying  Lady  Brading's  puppy  by  a  section  of  his  volu- 
minous scruff.  The  puppy  had  exhibited  a  strong  inclina- 
tion to  stay  with  Mrs.  Shovell,  or  at  least  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  her  seedlings  and  her  peat-colored  shoes. 
Jones  understood  it  very  well,  and  he  drove  the  puppy 
on  the  path  of  duty  with  marked  benevolence  before  he 
returned  himself  to  her  side. 

Charles  and  Margery,  as  eventually  appeared,  missed 
the  train  they  wanted,  but  caught  another,  which  proved 
to  be  the  one  they  should  have  taken.  This  was  illus- 
trative of  the  way  Charles  went  through  life,  fortune 
assisting  him  at  every  turn.  They  had  a  thoroughly  de- 
lightful walk,  and  thought  themselves  extremely  clever 
into  the  bargain. 

Between  Marmaduke  and  Violet,  left  on  the  grass 
together  for  two  hours  and  more,  nothing  happened  of 
any  moment,  except  in  the  inner  workings  of  her  mind. 
A  great  deal  happened  there,  as  usual;  but  we  do  not 
intend  to  weary  the  reader  with  it,  since  it  was  very 
quiet  and  private  thinking,  as  usual,  at  top  speed.  Jones, 
close  to  her  as  he  was,  saw  none  of  it;  and  yet  he  saw 
every  detail  of  herself  and  her  doings,  all  the  time. 

It  was  not  what  is  called  a  confidential  dialogue,  though 
easy,  as  their  talk  had  been  from  first  meeting,  with  the 
ease  of  natural  understanding  and  mutual  trust.  On  all 
the  essentials  of  life  and  living,  these  two  extremely 
dissimilar  persons,  man  and  woman,  were  at  one.  They 
knew  it  so  well  that  they  barely  touched  upon  essentials, 
ever.  They  talked  of  passing  things  with  their  tongues, 
as  people  do,  and  their  spirits  conversed  meanwhile.  He 
did  not  commiserate  her  even;  he  could  not,  when  the 
other  lively  pair  were  gone,  and,  sitting  near  her,  he  saw 


364  DUKE  JONES 

the  expression  of  her  face.  The  effect  of  anguish  and 
sorrow  on  a  young  face  is  to  add  no  lines, — she  seemed 
to  Marmaduke  in  many  ways  younger  than  ever ;  perhaps 
because  she  had  been  obliged  to  submit  to  compassion 
and  assistance, — to  lay,  at  least  for  a  period,  her  anxieties 
in  other  hands.  But  for  all  that,  sorrow's  seal  was  there ; 
whenever  her  mouth  lay  still  for  a  moment,  he  saw  it 
clearly, — not  the  weak  thing  resignation,  but  the  proud 
line  cut  by  grief.  And  lightly  as  she  chattered  to  him, 
doing  more  than  her  share  of  the  entertainment,  as  usual, 
and  smiling  readily,  the  shadow  of  sorrow's  close 
acquaintance  was  in  her  eyes. 

He  saw  her  eyes  rarely:  for  she  was  sitting  parallel 
with  him,  and  during  the  pauses  of  their  talk  she  was 
reviewing  the  beds  in  front  of  her.  They  were  talking 
of  gardening,  since  she  had  instantly  tracked  down  his 
fad.  He  was  boasting — all  gardeners  boast,  even  Marma- 
duke— of  his  country  triumphs :  so  it  was  natural  that  a 
Londoner  should  dream.  The  hopes  of  that  season  for 
a  town  garden  were  already  over.  Little  would  come  in 
any  case,  Violet  knew,  of  those  seeds  the  puppy  had  dis- 
turbed. But  she  did  not  want,  she  assured  Mr.  Jones, 
to  be  reminded  too  frequently  of  her  limitations  and  the 
fate  that  was  in  store. 

"  You  are  right,  to  discourage  me,"  she  assured  him 
crisply,  at  one  point.  "  You  mean  extremely  well.  .  .  . 
But  remember,  please,  I  am  living  my  first  year.  I  never 
had  any  garden  at  all  before,  to  ponder  about.  The  first 
year,  you  make  silly  plans, — and  hope  for  impossibilities, 
— and  learn  by  black  experience."  She  lifted  her  gray 
eyes  once  to  the  chimney-pots,  and  dropped  them  on  the 
beds  again. 

Jones  was  silent,  incapable  of  speech.  Who  could  have 
answered  that? — the  hopes  of  a  first  year:  and  yet  she 
was  simply  talking  of  her  flowers,  no  shadow  of  other 
complaint.  It  was  Jones  who  complained.  What  "  silly 
plans  "  had  she  not  made,  for  that  first  child  ?  Whither 


MAUD  365 

had  her  deep  thoughts,  her  delicate  imagination,  not 
conveyed  her?  What,  even  to  his  knowledge,  had  her 
fingers,  those  lovely  little  fingers  clasped  about  her  gray 
skirts,  not  prepared?  Jones  knew  all,  he  knew  far  too 
much, — and  he  could  only  pray  that,  as  ever,  she  would 
speak  again  and  save  his  utterance. 

She  did.  Slipping  from  flower-land  by  a  natural  prog- 
ress, she  talked  of  Lisette.  She  told  him,  rather  shyly, 
how  pleased  she  and  her  father  were  at  his  idea;  and 
she  praised  Lisette,  as  she  had  praised  the  flowers,  with 
words  of  which  Jones  could  never  have  thought;  words 
which  suggested  color,  reached  the  velvet  texture  of  life, 
like  the  incomparable  touches  of  Ledger's  paint-brush 
on  the  ivory.  And  then  she  said, — he  was  sure  it  was 
herself  speaking,  not  Sir  Claude, — how  well  it  would 
be  for  that  boy  to  feel  he  had  a  name  and  a  father,  from 
the  first ;  and  how  he  might  be  saved  by  Jones'  proceed- 
ing from  the  bitterest  grudge  a  human  soul  can  bear,  a 
grudge  against  the  unalterable  laws  of  society ;  and  from 
that  viler  thing,  a  dim  resentment,  never  failing,  strength- 
ening with  his  own  strength,  against  his  mother's  weak- 
ness. 

"I'd  thought  of  that,"  said  Jones.  "I  mean,  I'd 
thought  of  it  more  or  less.  I  think  I  could  do  it  all  right, 
— see  that  he  never  knew,  I  mean.  Of  course,  he'd  take 
the  name." 

"  And  she's  so  lovely ! "  said  Violet,  as  a  climax  to  all, 
relapsing  into  her  chair.  She  shut  her  eyes,  as  though  to 
see  that  remembered  loveliness. 

"  Yes,"  said  Marmaduke,  looking  at  her. 

"  In  short,  I  congratulate  you,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell, 
opening  her  eyes  again,  and  sitting  up  unexpectedly. 
"  May  I  ?  "  She  held  out  her  hand. 

"  It's  awfully  kind  of  you,"  said  Jones.  "  I  haven't 
asked  her  yet,  you  know, — but  I'm  pretty  sure." 

"  So  is  Father,"  said  Violet.  "  He's  horribly  penetrat- 
ing. You  needn't  be  afraid." 


366  DUKE  JONES 

Thus  half  Charles'  bet  was  safe, — the  negative  half. 
For,  at  that  swift  crisis,  quite  unforeseen,  her  presence 
close  to  him,  her  joy  in  his  supposed  joy  presented  almost 
tangibly,  and  her  delicate  hand  in  his, — Jones  did  not  lose 
his  head.  He  barely  blinked  under  it:  and  he  answered 
her  in  a  string  of  his  accustomed  platitudes,  unmoved. 

After  that  necessary  formality,  they  settled  to  nothings 
again, — contented  equally  to  have  disposed  of  it,  since  he 
was  awkward,  as  she  was  shy.  Jones  rose  to  leave  at 
last,  for  he  was  sure  he  had  tired  her  sufficiently ;  and  if 
the  elder  Miss  Gibbs  was  coming,  as  she  had  said,  to  early 
tea,  one  person  at  a  time  was  quite  enough  for  her,  and 
she  could  rest  in  her  long  chair,  and  shut  her  eyes  at 
her  leisure,  between. 

When  he  was  quite  close  to  her,  taking  his  leave,  and 
she  least  expecting  it,  he  said — 

"  Mrs.  Shovell " 

She  turned  her  head  and  looked  up,  for  she  had  not 
risen.  He  colored,  but  not  much. 

"  Miss  Lisette  gave  me  a  message  yesterday.  I  ought 
to  have  told  you  sooner,  really.  It  was  about  those  little 
baby's  clothes." 

"  Yes  ?  "  Her  eyes  were  leveled  steadily ;  only,  she 
seemed  helpless  to  rise,  as  she  had  intended,  and  lay,  her 
clenched  hands  beside  her.  Jones'  eyes  avoided  her,  but 
he  saw  it  all. 

"  She  is  not  clever  at  sewing,  so  she  can't  copy  them, 
she  is  afraid.  But  she  will  keep  them  to  look  at  a  little, 
and  give  the  maid  an  idea.  Then  she  will  send  them 
back." 

"Why?"  said  Mrs.  Shovell,  biting  her  lip.  "Don't 
they  fit  him?  I  chose  the  big  ones  on  purpose, — I  had 
got  well  ahead." 

To  be  sure  she  had,  she  would:  she  had  dressed  that 
dream-child  of  hers  for  six  months  in  advance,  he  was 
very  sure. 

"  They  said  he  was  so  splendid,"  she  pushed  swiftly 


MAUD  367 

on,  looking  about  her,  not  at  him.  "  I  haven't  seen.  So 
I  sent  the  last  set  for  him.  Only  the  littlest,  the  first  I 
made,  I  kept." 

One  hand  was  clenched,  up  against  her  breast, — he 
knew  that  sensitive  gesture  well.  He  was  discomposing 
her  terribly,  shaming  her, — angering  her  for  all  he  knew : 
but  it  must  be  done. 

"  She  can't,"  he  insisted.  "  Can't  take  them, — no 
girl  could, — least  of  all  her,  and  now.  Big  or  little,  you 
must  keep  them,  stick  to  them  all.  Shovell " 

"  It's  my  work,"  she  said,  in  a  flash,  "  not  Charles'. 
Every  stitch  is  mine." 

"  That's  what  she  hadn't  thought  of,"  he  said,  "—Miss 
Lisette.  The  maid  told  her  it  was  shop  work, — couldn't 
be  yours.  That's  where  the  mistake  was,  really." 

"  Then  there  was  a  mistake."  She  was  upon  him. 
"  Who  undeceived  her  ?  " 

Taken  aback,  he  could  not  answer;  but  of  course  she 
saw,  in  a  flash  of  her  bright  eyes. 

"  What  made  you  think  I  had  made  them  ?  "  She 
flashed  at  him  again.  "  Why  can  you  not  let  Lisette  take 
happily  ? — Lisettes  always  do.  Do  you  think  I  did  it  with- 
out considering?  Do  you  know  how  I  thought  while  I 
made  them,  Mr.  Jones?  Since  she  wants  them,  and  I 
don't  now,  why  not?  I  had  sooner  some  child  wore 
them, — I  had  sooner,  it  is  not  pose." 

"  Some  child  will."  He  did  not  say  it,  but  it  was  in 
every  line  of  his  face.  His  face  was  not  ordinary  at 
the  minute,  it  had  a  man's  full  share  of  feeling.  What 
he  said  was: 

"  It's  beastly  cheek  of  me,  Mrs.  Shovell.  I'm  afraid 
you're  vexed." 

She  was.  She  lost  her  temper  completely.  She  said 
half  a  dozen  keen  things  in  succession,  ridiculously  like 
Claude.  Only  Marmaduke  hardly  knew  Claude  at  pres- 
ent, and  respected  him  too  much,  in  any  case,  to  draw 
such  comparisons.  She  flew  at  Jones,  and  pulled  him 


368  DUKE  JONES 

all  about  with  her  indignant  tongue,  the  flag  of  outraged 
susceptibility  still  in  her  face. 

It  was  Violet's  opinion  that,  before  a  girl  had  accepted 
Mr.  Jones,  it  looked  something  like  presumption,  on  his 
part,  to  manage  her  like  that.  Lisette  might  refuse  him, 
— very  likely  would.  She  was  not  used  to  being  lectured, 
and  had  a  particular  abhorrence,  having  been  brought 
up  by  a  holy  aunt  at  Torquay,  of  pietistic  sentiments. 
.  .  .  Her  own  instincts,  to  Violet's  ideas,  were  ex- 
tremely pretty  and  delicate,  quite  as  likely  to  be  just  as 
better  people's  second-hand  exhortations,  with  perfectly 
accurate  quotations  at  intervals.  Personally,  Violet  did 
not  care  for  that  either, — it  was  a  matter  of  taste.  .  .  . 
Mr.  Jones  was  very  much  mistaken  if  he  thought  he 
could  work  on  Lisette,  or  ever  make  her  much  different 
from  what  she  was.  He  had  better  be  warned  in  time. 
Quite  superior  people  Violet  could  think  of,  in  Lisette's 
neighborhood,  had  not  even  tried  that, — knew  it  was  bet- 
ter not.  She  had  a  heavenly  little  nature,  of  which  it 
was  possible  for  persons  who  lived  by  mere  catchwords, 
as  somebody  or  other  said,  to  be  densely  oblivious.  (A 
pause,  with  bitten  lip,  to  see  if  Mr.  Jones  would  resent 
it,  which  he  did  not.)  In  matters  of  that  sort,  he  would 
have  done  much  better  to  leave  two  women  alone:  that 
is,  unless  he  enjoyed  hearing  the  truth  from  one  or  the 
other, — as  she  could  not  but  trust  he  had  heard  it,  from 
her  cousin,  already. 

In  short,  it  became  clear  to  the  meanest  intelligence,  in 
the  course  of  these  remarks  of  Mrs.  Shovell's,  that  Jones 
was  quite  unworthy  of  Lisette. 

Of  course,  if  Violet  had  realized  how  fascinating  she 
was  when  she  lost  her  temper  she  would  not  have  done 
it:  but  in  the  nature  of  things,  she  could  not  pause  to 
think  of  that.  She  was  at  a  terrible  mental  crisis, — 
rather  alarmed  at  the  situation,  to  tell  the  truth, — and  had 
to  relieve  her  desperate  feelings  somehow.  When  she 
stopped,  breathless,  and  looked  about  her  at  the  garden, 


MAUD  369 

Jones  was  glad,  in  one  way,  it  was  over ;  but,  since  he  had 
lost  the  straight  gleam  of  her  eyes,  almost  wished  she 
would  start  again.  That  clean  cutting  of  the  Ash  wins, 
though  it  might  lacerate  at  the  moment,  never  rankled. 
Jones  was  deeply  pained  at  having  offended  her,  as  he 
thought;  but  he  remained  standing  by  her,  erect  though 
submissive;  her  ill-treatment  had  not  yet  driven  him 
away. 

After  a  pause,  she  got  up,  and,  of  course,  he  followed. 
On  her  feet  Mrs.  Shovell  turned  stately, — magnificent  to 
a  degree.  Jones  had  never  seen  this  before,  though 
Charles  could  have  warned  him  of  its  existence.  She 
walked  with  him  to  the  garden  door,  and  so  to  the  gate : 
pale  again,  very  cool  in  her  gray  clothes,  stepping  daintily 
on  her  peat-colored  shoes,  holding  her  head  on  her  little 
neck  with  the  loftiness  of  the  whole  line  of  her  Ingestre 
ancestors,  making  an  occasional  correct  remark, — and 
thinking,  had  he  known  it,  passionately  in  between.  The 
effect  upon  Jones  was  appalling,  far  worse  than  the  first 
phase  of  her  anger,  and  he  felt  he  had  lost  her  for  ever. 

But  still,  he  did  not  regret.  Come  what  would  of  it,  he 
could  not  let  Lisette  assume  all,  all  to  the  bitter  end,  even 
the  dreams  of  her  fingers,  as  she  sat  sewing  and  thinking, 
that  whole  winter  long.  It  was  just  the  straw  too  much, 
even  for  Jones'  charity,  that.  He  was  absolutely,  obsti- 
nately sure  that  he  was  right,  even  if  she  quarreled  with 
him. 

She  did  not.  On  the  door-step,  at  the  very  outpost  of 
her  territory,  to  which  she  had  thus  shown  him  with  the 
aloofness  of  a  queen,  she  relented.  Quite  without  warn- 
ing, she  changed  again.  She  leant  on  the  gate,  and  with 
a  glimmer  of  mischief,  just  discernible,  gave  him  an  invi- 
tation. Marmaduke,  astonished  and  overcome  at  such 
sudden  forgiveness,  such  an  unforeseen  relapse  from  the 
Alpine  heights  of  austerity  to  their  first  and  most  ancient 
comradeship, — for  she  jested  as  she  spoke, — accepted 
instantly,  without  stopping  to  consider  if  he  had  an  en- 


370  DUKE  JONES 

gagement  for  the  night  in  question.  (Eventually  he  dis- 
covered that  he  had,  and  lied  to  the  other  fellow,  instead 
of  telling  the  truth  to  her.)  Mrs.  Shovell  said  that  it  was 
a  great  relief  to  her  to  be  sure  of  him,  and  Charles  would 
be  so  glad  to  be  let  off  dressing,  if  Mr.  Jones  could  bear 
it.  Jones,  venturing  to  be  faintly  amused,  could  bear  it 
very  well.  Whereupon  Mrs.  Shovell,  still  leaning  on  the 
gate,  made  half-a-dozen  rapid  remarks  about  nothing 
particular  in  the  street  before  her,  all  of  which  struck 
Jones  as  rather  funny  afterwards:  said  she  hoped  Mr. 
Jones  had  not  really  taken  her  seriously,  ever,  since  it 
was  not  worth  it,  and  people  who  knew  her  never  did, — 
and  vanished  from  him  up  the  steps  into  her  own  house 
in  a  flight. 

As  to  this  last  remarkable  and  undignified  piece  of 
behavior  on  Mrs.  Shovell's  part,  Jones  did  not  take  offense 
at  it,  or  regard  it  very  seriously  even,  because,  unlike  all 
the  rest,  he  was  used  to  it.  It  was  part  of  his  memories, 
and  the  best  part.  During  her  honeymoon,  on  days  of 
mental  exaltation,  or  under  the  influence  of  a  sudden 
happy  idea,  she  used  to  fly  about  like  that:  take  Shovell 
from  the  rear  sometimes,  and  nearly  knock  him  down  be- 
fore he  brought  her  to  her  bearings,  so  to  speak.  Shovell 
had  always  stood  it  well,  uncomplaining,  as  though  it  was 
part  of  the  job  he  had  undertaken  in  marrying  her,  so 
Jones  accepted  it  likewise.  Yet  it  was  peculiar  to  her :  he 
had  never  noticed  any  other  young  lady — married  young 
lady — do  the  same  thing ;  so  it  had  gone  down  among  his 
more  sober  memories  of  that  unequaled  holiday  unaware. 

ii 

When  Charles  and  Margery  came  home,  dirty  but  se- 
rene, they  found  Violet  in  her  accustomed  place  in  one 
corner  of  the  sofa,  sitting  demurely  with  her  hands 
folded,  in  reach  of  the  tea-tray.  Two  cups  on  the  tray 
had  been  used,  and  Charles  looked  at  them  with  suspicion. 
Obviously,  if  Jones  had  prolonged  his  call  through  tea- 


MAUD  371 

time,  either  Violet  had  failed  to  see  through  him,  and  the 
bet  was  waste  paper,  or,  having  found  him  out,  she  had 
been  encouraging  him  deliberately,  which  her  husband 
would  not  like  to  think  of  her. 

He  pointed  to  the  two  cups,  mutely,  with  a  certain 
marital  severity. 

"  Maud,"  said  Violet :  the  one  word.  She  seemed  to 
rouse  from  abstraction  and  refrained  from  turning  her 
eyes  on  Charles.  This  looked  rather  well  for  the  bet,  so 
Charles  melted. 

"  Marmaduke  gone,  darling?  "  he  said  lightly.  "  Was 
his  conduct  all  we  should  expect,  or  otherwise?" 

"  All  you  would  have  expected,"  said  Violet.  That  was 
bad.  A  third  and  fearful  possibility  struck  Charles,  that 
she  had  always  known,  and  knew  now  that  they  were 
waiting  for  her  to  betray  herself.  Feeling  the  need  of 
support,  suddenly,  he  turned  about. 

"  Maud's  come  and  Marmaduke's  gone,  Margery.  Are 
you  ever  coming  in  ?  " 

"  I  can't  stop,"  called  Margery.  "  I'm  only  putting  the 
flowers  in  a  bath  for  Violet." 

"  Delicious,"  called  Violet  back.    "  What  have  you?  " 

"  Quite  indescribable,"  said  Margery.  "  We  dragged 
up  a  whole  wood, — I  did,  that  is.  Between  that  and  the 
dog,  I'm  black  from  head  to  foot.  Charlie  wasn't  the 
least  assistance,  with  either.  He  only  stood  about,  quot- 
ing Shakespeare,  while  I  struggled." 

"  How  did  he  get  black,  then  ? "  asked  Violet,  as 
Margery,  unruffled  and  angelic  as  ever,  entered  with  the 
"  bath."  "  Just  holding  on  to  you?  " 

"  Scandalous,"  said  Lady  Brading  in  confidence.  "  And 
the  things  he  says, — he's  far  worse  than  he  used  to  be." 

"  Just  what  I  told  Mother  of  you,"  said  Charles,  eating. 
"  Have  some  cake."  He  looked  at  Margery  with  meaning, 
and  winked  the  eye  that  was  nearer  Violet. 

"  No,  I  shan't  stop,"  said  Margery.  "  She  has  had 
quite  enough  nonsense.  Her  eyes  are  tired." 


372  DUKE  JONES 

Charles  took,  or  tried  to  take,  an  observation  of  Violet's 
eyes.  He  was  just  too  late. 

"  Maud  has  gone  to  her  room  to  unpack,"  said  Violet  to 
Margery.  "  She  says  she  always  does  it  at  once  on  arrival, 
when  she  has  had  a  cup  of  tea.  As  she  has  never  arrived 
anywhere  before,  I  did  not  see  how  she  could  argue  it ;  but 
I  let  her  alone,  carefully.  She  told  me  to  sit  here  till  she 
came  down,  with  this  silk  thing  over  me :  so  I  did.  And 
not  to  try  to  do  anything  else:  so  I  didn't." 

"  How  long,"  Charles  demanded,  "  was  it  between  Mar- 
maduke's  departure  and  Maud's  arrival  ? " 

"  Twenty-five  minutes,  dear.    Why  ?  " 

"  You  didn't  go  to  sleep,  then  ?  " 

"  To  sleep  ?  No, — why  should  I  ?  "  She  glanced  at  him, 
and  he  saw  her  eyes.  All  Charles'  airy  spirits  awoke  and 
sang.  The  bet  was  won, — she  had  been  crying !  Then,  all 
his  airy  spirits  sank  again.  Brute  that  he  was, — she  need 
not  have  been  crying  about  that ! 

"  Come  and  see  Maud  soon,"  said  Violet,  as  Margery 
bent  over  her  to  say  good  night.  "  And  bring  us  Bobbin." 

"  Don't ! "  muttered  Charles,  just  audible.  After  a 
minute,  as  Lady  Brading  did  not  move,  he  grew  impatient. 
"  There's  that  brute  squealing,  Margery,"  he  said. 
"  You'd  better  go." 

For  some  reason,  it  was  not  tolerable  to  Charles  that 
Margery  should  pity  Violet.  He  was  inclined  to  defend 
her  angrily  against  the  pity  of  all  the  world.  Pity,  indeed ! 

As  his  stepsister,  urged  by  a  meaning  tug,  turned  about, 
he  spoke  instantly  in  his  ordinary  tone.  "  Do  I  conduct 
you  to  your  carriage,  darling  ? — I  forget.  Do  I  do  that  for 
the  baronet's  wives,  V.,  or  only  for  the  baronesses  ?  " 

"  You  sit  where  you  are,"  said  Margery,  "  and  finish 
your  cake,  and  try  not  to  be  a  donkey.  I  am  sure  she  does 
not  want  donkeys  to-night." 

"  While  thou  my  amiable  cheeks  do  coy,"  murmured 
Charles.  "  And  kiss  my  fair  large  ears — I  say,  good 
thing  Brading's  not  here,  isn't  it  ?  Ripping  good  cake  this 
is  of  Alison's.  Mind  if  I  bring  it  out?  " 


MAUD  373 

When  he  came  back  to  the  drawing-room  from  speeding 
Margery,  and  resumed  the  cake  he  had  left  behind  him, — 
for  Charles'  bad  manners  never  went  beyond  speech,  even 
with  his  sisters,— Violet  was  in  the  same  position,  the 
kettle  was  boiling  furiously,  and  Maud,  he  much  feared 
by  distant  sounds,  was  about  to  descend  from  her  room. 
Really,  with  one's  so-called  relations  prying  at  every  turn, 
a  fellow  never  got  any  privacy.  Charles  advanced  to  the 
tray,  and  with  the  exertion  of  huge  effort,  blew  out  the 
flame. 

"  Lot  of  good  you  are  in  a  house,  V.,"  he  then  observed : 
and  dropped,  cake  in  hand,  by  her  side  on  the  sofa. 
"  Why,"  he  inquired  in  confidence,  "  does  the  in- 
fernal thing-  still  go  on  boiling,  when  I'  ve  put  out 
the  flame  ?  " 

"  Because  infernal  things  do,"  said  Violet.  "  It's  the 
heat."  She  relapsed  into  reflection.  She  looked  tired  and 
disheartened.  Charles  began  to  wonder,  with  vague  re- 
sentmenj:,  what  the  little  beast  Jones  had  said  to  her.  He 
also  reflected  that  it  is  singularly  useless  making  bets  if 
you  cannot  enjoy  winning  them.  He  was  pretty  sure  he 
had  won. 

"  Have  some  cake  ?  "  he  ventured  soon. 

"  No,  thank  you,  dear :  I've  finished."  But,  recognizing 
the  overture,  as  she  always  did,  she  laid  her  little  clenched 
hand  in  his  palm,  which  lay  open  invitingly.  Hers  was 
rather  cold:  but  since  Charles  was  radiantly  warm  with 
food  and  exercise,  that  could  be  remedied.  They  were  at 
this  perfect  moment  of  opening  confidence,  and  he  was 
sure  he  would  soon  have  had  her  talking  to  him,  confess- 
ing to  him,  admitting  (possibly)  his  superior  wisdom  and 
knowledge  of  men, — telling  him  all  sorts  of  things  besides, 
her  heavenly  thoughts,  which  he  longed  to  know, — when 
Maud  came  in.  Is  a  man  not  justified  in  declaring  such 
as  Maud  superfluous  in  the  world? 

"  Charlie  dear,"  said  Maud,  and  kissed  him.  Both  his 
stepsisters  did  this  frequently,  and  Charles  had  no  objec- 
tion. Broadly  speaking,  they  were  nice  girls  to  have 


374  DUKE  JONES 

about :  pleasant,  soft  of  voice,  thoughtful  for  others,  and 
both  far  above  the  average  in  looks.  Maud  was  nearly  as 
pretty  as  Margery,  really,  and  though  a  little  older  than 
Charles,  and  seven  years  older  than  her  sister  and  Violet, 
had  not  yet  touched  the  barrier  of  the  thirties.  In  her 
place,  in  short,  Maud  was  excellent  and  even  ornamental, 
but  Charles  thought  Violet  was  wrong  as  to  her  place 
being  here.  It  was  clearly  with  the  chickens,  at  home. 

"  You  might  get  up,  lazy,"  said  Violet.  "  It's  not  as  if 
we  had  Maud  to  stay  with  us  every  day." 

"  By  the  mercy  of  heaven,"  said  Charles'  expression. 
Nor  did  he  get  up.  He  could  not,  since  Violet  had  trusted 
him,  temporarily,  with  her  hand. 

"  How  do  you  think  she  looks  ?  "  said  Charles  carelessly. 

"  She  would  look  much  better,  to  my  mind,"  said  Maud, 
"  if  you  let  her  have  all  the  sofa.  That  is  how  I  left  her. 
That  is  what  I  advise." 

Of  course  she  did:  sure  to  advise  the  most  repulsive 
course  conceivable.  Charles  leant  back,  elaborately  at  his 
ease.  He  was  the  master  of  this  house,  after  all.  He 
sought  subjects  to  distract  Maud's  attention. 

"  How's  Mr.  Shepherd  ?  "  he  inquired.  Mr.  Shepherd 
was  the  curate  at  Glasswell, — Maud's  one  hope  in  life, 
according  to  Charles. 

"  For  the  minute,  I  hardly  know,"  said  Maud,  consider- 
ing. "  He  had  rather  a  bad  cold  on  Friday,  and  I  took  his 
boys.  He  is  away  for  the  week-end,  staying  with  her  fam- 
ily. I  was  telling  Violet  how  glad  we  all  are.  Her  family 
are  presenting  Mr.  Shepherd  to  the  living.  Isn't  it  nice?  " 

Well,  if  this  was  the  tragedy  of  Maud's  life,  she  was 
certainly  disguising  her  feelings  very  well.  That  was  just 
like  Maud,  disappointing  everyone's  kind  hopes  for  her, 
and  pursuing  her  private  way  with  a  smile. 

"  Do  you  like  London,  Maud  ?  "  said  Charles,  having 
reviewed  such  openings  as  remained. 

"  A  very  heartless  question,  poor  darling,"  said  Violet, 
"  considering  that  no  one  met  her  and  made  her  comfort- 


MAUD  375 

able.  I  made  our  excuses,  Charles, — each  with  a  visitor. 
It  was  unlucky." 

Had  she  expected  that  of  him,  thought  Charles,  amazed. 
As  if  unmarried  girls  could  not  always,  in  these  days, 
shift  for  themselves!  And  as  if  Margery  were  not  ten 
times  more  interesting  company ! 

"  If  you  had  come  to  the  station,  Violet,"  said  Maud 
quietly,  "  I  should  have  been  extremely  angry." 

"  Rot,"  said  Charles  in  haste.    "  She's  all  right  now." 

"  She  looks  better,"  said  Maud,  with  a  critical  glance. 
"  I  didn't  like  her  looks  at  all  when  I  first  came.  I  was 
surprised  a  little,  Charles,  to  find  her  alone." 

How  had  Maud  found  her,  he  wondered. 

"  That's  because  a  bore  came  to  call,"  he  explained. 
"  She  couldn't  get  rid  of  him, — you  can't  always.  She 
was  telling  me." 

"  She  told  me,"  said  Maud,  "  she  had  had  a  beautifully 
quiet  afternoon,  sitting  in  the  garden.  You  can  imagine 
which  of  you  I  believe." 

She  was  really  rather  severe.  Charles  began  to  consider 
possible  sops  for  Maud. 

"  Margery's  got  a  dinner  and  theater-party  on  Mon- 
day," he  remarked.  "  Rather  a  jolly  piece,  I've  seen  it. 
Do  all  right  for  you,  I  think.  Margery  didn't  exactly 
leave  a  message,  but " 

Violet's  hand  gripped  his. 

"  It's  all  right,  darling,"  she  said  soothingly,  to  Maud's 
startled  face.  "  The  party  has  been  made  up  for  months. 
They  haven't  possibly  room  for  you,  and  Margery  is 
terribly  sorry.  I  was  to  tell  you  how  terribly  sorry  she 
was." 

Maud's  face  grew  more  tranquil,  though  still  nervous. 
She  could  not  bear  big  parties,  and  noisy  festivity,  and 
going  out.  Nobody  ever  understood  the  point  to  which 
she  could  not  bear  it,  except  Violet.  Violet  was  quite 
safe.  That  was  why  Maud  had  come  to  her,  partly: 
partly  because  Maud  was,  by  birth,  one  of  the  daughters 


376  DUKE  JONES 

of  consolation,  who  are  drawn,  as  though  by  a  magnet, 
towards  suffering,  however  quiet  and  well-disguised. 

Charles,  disappointed  of  the  opportunity  of  getting  rid 
of  Maud,  for  at  least  one  night,  was  consoled  by  listening 
to  the  ensuing  conversation,  for  Violet  had  been  aroused. 
They  talked  like  girls,  of  all  kinds  of  odd  things,  personal 
details,  chatter  of  Maud's  parish,  news  of  the  family,  news 
of  the  family  animals,  carelessly  exchanged.  Any  girl  can 
play  hostess  to  another  girl,  of  course,  but  Violet  did  it 
differently.  Charles  watched  Maud's  face,  nervous  to 
begin  with,  and  saw  the  look  come  over  it  that  he  knew  in 
people  who  talked  to  Violet,  softened  and  amused.  She 
roused  on  her  side,  smiled,  answered  with  mild  drollery, 
and  Charles  began  to  forgive  her.  But  he  still  wished  she 
would  leave  the  room:  because,  among  other  things,  he 
wanted  to  find  out,  for  poor  Margery's  sake,  about  the  bet. 

In  a  long,  comfortable  pause,  during  which  Maud  could 
easily  have  got  away,  with  an  easy  excuse,  to  fetch  some- 
thing, she  produced  instead  a  piece  of  knitting  from  a 
black  silk  bag,  and  settled  contentedly  in  a  low  chair. 
Charles,  his  eyes  cast  down,  manoeuvred  to  capture  Vio- 
let's other  hand,  when  an  interesting  point  of  Maud's 
work  should  give  him  the  opportunity.  The  trouble  was, 
like  most  good  knitters,  she  did  not  seem  to  be  dependent 
on  her  eyes. 

"  Maud,  dear,"  said  Violet  delicately,  moving  a  little 
away  from  Charles,  and  breaking  the  silence,  "  you 
wouldn't  be  worried  by  a  small,  home  dinner-party  to- 
morrow, would  you?  Sunday  supper, — nothing  formal, 
you  know.  As  small  as  possible,  naturally.  I  am  not 
seeing  people  much." 

Charles  looked  round  surprised.  It  was  true  she  had 
not  been  seeing  people, — rather  rigid  about  it.  This  was 
a  new  departure. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  can  stand  it,  dear?  "  said  Maud. 

"  Quite.  It  would  be  a  nice  change.  I  do  so  want  to 
introduce  you  to  a  friend  of  ours,"  said  Violet.  "  A  Mr. 
Jones." 


MAUD  377 

"  Of  course  I  shall  be  delighted,"  said  Maud,  with  pro- 
priety. "  It's  sweet  of  you  to  think  of  it ;  but  you  really 
oughtn't  to  bother  about  me.  What's  the  matter  with 
Charlie?" 

Charles,  who  had  gaped  during  Violet's  delicate  open- 
ing, had  at  the  conclusion  collapsed  in  ecstasy,  a  sofa- 
cushion  pressed  passionately  over  his  face  to  conceal  it. 
There  he  remained,  gasping,  for  some  minutes.  When  the 
cushion  dropped,  still  in  a  collapsed  state,  and  looking 
quite  anguished,  he  spoke  in  a  weak  tone : 

"  She'll  put  a  girdle  round  the  earth  in  forty  minutes. 
Forty  minutes  ? — ye  gods !  Give  her  twenty-five." 

"  Don't  mind  him,  dearest,"  said  Violet  to  Maud,  who 
looked  puzzled.  "  That's  the  way  he  talks,  sometimes. 
He  has  taken  to  reading  Shakespeare  lately,  and  it  goes  to 
his  head.  I  always  thought  Shakespeare  a  dangerous 
author,  didn't  you?  " 

Her  face  was  turned  towards  Maud  as  she  explained, 
but  her  eyes  were  sidelong  upon  Charles,  watching  him 
with  an  apprehensive  gleam.  She  trusted, — she  did  trust, 
— he  would  follow  her  tactics,  and  not  give  her  and  her 
nice  new-built  castles  away.  He  must  see  the  necessity  of 
remaining  quiet,  at  least  till  Maud  went  upstairs  to  dress. 
Maud  was  a  very  peculiar  girl:  delightful,  but  entirely 
exceptional  among  Violet's  acquaintance:  and,  since 
Maud  was  an  Ash  win,  Violet  knew  her  very  well.  If 
Maud  thought  Mr.  Jones  was  being  thrown  at  her,  sus- 
pected it  even,  she  would  never,  never  consider  him.  And 
Violet  did  want  her  to  consider  him,  and  save  him,  if  it 
could  be  done,  from  himself,  and  this  frightful  mistake  he 
was  committing — now — in  marrying  Lisette, — Lisette,  of 
all  girls  in  heaven  or  earth, — out  of  charity!  Charles 
must  see! 

Charles  did  see,  by  degrees,  thinking  it  over,  in  a  con- 
tinual and  contained  ecstasy,  at  Violet's  side.  It  was  so 
like  her, — so  exactly  "  her  style  " — to  solve  a  situation 
which  had  embarrassed,  alarmed,  and  made  her  miserable, 
for  full  five  and  twenty  minutes'  painful  thinking,  just  in 


378  DUKE  JONES 

this  way.  Perhaps  even  for  less, — he  could  not  guess  how 
quickly  she  had  done  it,  after  Marmaduke's  departure,  but 
there  were  the  results.  A  new  plan,  a  palace  rising  on  the 
wreck  of  the  old,  a  most  unassailable  castle  in  Spain. 
Charles'  critical  mind  attacked  it  on  every  side,  quite 
fruitlessly.  The  more  he  thought,  first  of  Marmaduke, 
and  then  of  Maud,  the  more  he  saw  the  instinctive  art  of 
it.  They  were  made  for  one  another:  every  point  was 
right.  It  was  a  thousand  times  better  than  Mr.  Shepherd, 
who  had  really  been,  Charles  now  admitted,  an  infernal 
ass.  It  was  only  as  Maud's  one  chance  in  life  that  anyone 
had  thought  of  the  curate,  since  she  would  not  see  people, 
pay  visits,  and  so  get  a  chance  at  other  men.  And  now,  if 
Violet  sent  her  back  to  her  parents,  engaged  to  Jones, — 
with  his  motor,  and  his  money,  his  country  tastes,  and  his 
blameless  record ! — it  was  simply  too  glorious  a  last  chap- 
ter to  the  narrative — almost  too  good  to  be  true. 

"  He  will  still  be  our  cousin,"  breathed  Charles  between 
his  teeth,  his  eyes  dancing,  as  he  lay  prostrate,  his  dis- 
carded cushion  slipping  towards  Violet,  and  Violet's  hand, 
with  half  her  arm,  drawn  towards  him  under  that  con- 
venient cover.  Mrs.  Shovell  appeared  to  hear  nothing, 
looking  pensively  upon  Maud,  her  guest.  She  drew  from 
Charles  as  much  as  she  dared,  and  only  when  he  abso- 
lutely hurt  her,  frowned  at  him.  She  knew  he  wanted  to 
bear-fight,  very  well.  His  blue  eyes,  carelessly  admiring 
as  they  were,  had  a  dangerous  spark.  She  had  laid  her- 
self open  to  teasing,  naturally, — violent  teasing, — teasing 
without  end, — but  if  Mr.  Jones  and  Maud  were  happy, 
and  Lisette,  her  pearl  of  pearls,  held  high  above  sacrilege 
still,  it  was  worth  it,  a  thousand  times.  Violet's  pale  face 
was  triumphant,  in  spite  of  all,  and  her  elvish  little 
pointed  chin  tilted  in  defiance  of  the  scoffer.  She  was 
shamed, — rightfully  shamed,  since  Charles  had  seen 
through  him,  and  she,  idiot  that  she  was,  had  not, — but 
she  was  not  defeated,  yet. 

"  What's  Charlie  talking  about  ? "  said  Miss  Gibbs 
presently. 


MAUD  379 

"  Whispering, — it's  very  rude,"  said  Violet.  "  I  have  a 
great  deal  of  bother  with  his  manners  still,  Maud.  I  think 
you  girls  spoilt  him,  down  at  Glass  well." 

"  Hasn't  he  any  work  ? "  said  Maud,  looking  critically 
at  her  stepbrother's  attitude.  Now  this  was  the  Saturday 
before  Whit-Monday.  It  seemed  to  be  Maud's  idea  that 
men  always  had  something  in  hand,  like  women,  at  all 
hours  of  the  day. 

"  Lots,"  said  Charles.  "  And,  by  the  way,  Violet,  there's 
a  metrical  point  I  want  to  ask  you  about,  in  that  text. 
There  are  two  or  three  readings  to  choose  from.  Mind 
coming  to  the  study  a  minute  ?  " 

"  She  certainly  won't  stir,"  said  Maud  briskly.  "  I'm 
surprised  at  you,  Charles.  Texts,  indeed !  " 

"  Not  your  sort  of  texts,"  said  Charles.  A  pause.  "  I 
say,  V.,"  he  said  presently.  "  Maud  would  like  to  see  her 
room,  wouldn't  she  ?  " 

"  I've  seen  it,"  said  Maud.  "  It's  absolutely  sweet, — 
much  too  good  for  me  really."  Maud  had  the  same  room 
as  Miss  Addenbroke,  the  Wrangler. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  Violet,  privately,"  remarked  Charles. 

"  You  want  to  worry  her,"  said  Maud.  "  I  know.  I 
am  replacing  Mamma,  and  I  don't  intend  to  leave  Violet 
at  your  mercy." 

"  My  mercy !  Cheek !  Maud,  you  beastly — spin- 
ster  " 

"  Charles !  How  dare  you  ?  " — hotly,  from  Maud's 
hostess. 

"  Maud," — Charles  tried  once  more, — "  when  you  come 
to  stay  with  married  people " 

"  You  forget  I  live  with  married  people,"  said  Maud. 
"  I  know  just  what  to  do." 

"  She  means  my  mother  and  her  father,"  said  Charles, 
to  Violet.  "  That's  what  she  means." 

"  Well,  they're  married,"  said  Maud. 

"  Doubly,"  said  Charles.  "  I  mean,  each  of  'em  twice. 
But  that's  not  the  point." 

"  Papa  and  Mamma  have  not  been  married  so  long," 


380  DUKE  JONES 

said  Miss  Gibbs,  turning  her  knitting.  She  looked  at 
Charles.  "  When  did  you  first  come  to  the  house,  dear,  I 
forget.  About " 

She  was  interrupted.  "  When  did  you  first  come  to  my 
house  ?  "  said  Mr.  Shovell  fiercely,  sitting  up.  "  About  an 
hour  ago.  And  you  can't  leave  the  room,  when  I  suggest 
to  you,  in  a  series  of  delicate  hints " 

"  Delicate !  "  said  Violet. 

" — That  I  want  to  discuss  the  details  of  a  nice  dinner- 
party in  your  honor  to-morrow,  with  my  wife,  out  of  your 
hearing." 

"  That's  what  you  want,  is  it  ?  "  said  Maud.  "  Why 
didn't  you  say  so  ?  Shall  I  go,  darling  ?  I  really  ought  to 
write  home,  and  I  expect  you  should  be  resting  properly." 
Her  tone,  on  the  last  phrase,  changed  to  the  tenderest 
sympathy. 

"  There  are  writing  things,"  said  Violet,  "  in  that  corner 
by  the  door:  and  stamps  in  the  littlest  box  behind.  If  I 
were  you,  dear,  I  should  bring  them  over  here.  That 
corner's  so  draughty." 

Maud  looked  at  her  stepbrother  in  quiet  triumph,  as  she 
passed  the  sofa  to  the  corner  indicated.  As  she  returned 
from  it,  with  Violet's  desk  and  the  littlest  box  of  stamps, 
she  remarked  suddenly, — 

"  Charles,  if  you  don't  leave  her  alone  this  instant,  I 
shall  put  in  a  postscript  to  Mamma." 

in 

"  No,  darling,  you  do  not,"  said  Maud,  when  Violet 
tried  to  make  the  coffee  after  dinner.  "  You  can  tell  me, 
from  the  sofa,  exactly  what  to  do."  She  took  the  things 
out  of  her  hands  with  mild  decision.  Maud  was  always 
mild  as  milk,  but  decision  was  not  the  word  for  her. 

"  You  are  so  unlike  our  last  guest,  Maud,"  said  Violet, 
from  the  distant  sofa,  gazing  at  her.  It  was  odd,  indeed, 
to  remember  Honoria  Addenbroke,  across  that  gulf  of 
time, — six  months, — and  look  at  Maud  Gibbs,  tranquilly 
making  the  coffee. 


MAUD  381 

There  was  something  faintly  old-fashioned  about  Maud, 
pretty  and  daintily  finished  as  she  was.  It  may  have  been 
the  arrangement  of  her  hair,  which  she  had  never  changed 
since  she  was  seventeen,  coiling  it  neatly  round  her  head : 
or  certain  time-saving  formalities  of  the  same  kind  in  her 
dress,  at  least  by  day.  At  night,  Maud  just  escaped  the 
puritanical,  and  let  the  world  discover  that  she  was  not 
entirely  blind  to  her  own  attractions. 

"  I  shall  not  do  anything  to  your  clothes,"  said  Violet 
thoughtfully,  "  at  all.  You  know  your  own  style,  and  have 
the  sense  to  stick  to  it.  I  should  only  dreadfully  like  you 
to  have  a  few  more,  darling.  Just  one  really  nice  one,  to 
take  back  with  you.  We  might  shop  to-morrow  morning, 
— what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  There  would  hardly  be  time  in  the  morning,"  replied 
Maud.  "  You  won't  be  getting  up  till  eleven,  at  least." 

"  Shan't  I  ?  How  tiresome.  I  mean,  how  nice.  How- 
ever," said  Violet  dreamily,  "  there  are  weeks  before  us." 

"  Two,"  said  Maud.  "  Papa  will  want  me  later  in 
June,  for  the  farm." 

She  meant,  for  the  farm  accounts.  Maud  was  not  a 
milkmaid,  though  she  would  have  made  a  very  pleasant 
one :  and  her  father  was  a  beneficed  clergyman,  though  in 
June  he  worked  in  his  fields,  in  an  old  straw  hat. 

"  There's  my  bridesmaid's  dress,"  Maud  pursued  on  the 
former  theme.  "  Nothing  could  be  sweeter  than  that.  I 
shall  wear  it  to-morrow  night  for  your  party.  And  the 
pendant  Charlie  gave  me  goes  with  it,  naturally." 

"  But,  darling,"  protested  Violet.  "  I  have  been  married 
a  year." 

"  I  have  only  worn  it  once  since,  all  the  same,"  said 
Maud.  "  I  am  sorry,  love,  since  it  is  your  invention,  and 
fitted  me  so  beautifully:  but  really,  at  Glasswell,  one's 
nice  things  never  see  the  light.  .  .  .  You  may  have  a 
little  coffee,"  Maud  added,  thoughtfully  pouring,  "  with 
a  great  deal  of  milk  in  it,  like  that.  Now,  as  it  is  horribly 
hot,  I  shall  cool  it  for  you,  with  a  spoon.  Now,  drink." 

She  had  come  to  the  sofa,  and  knelt  down  holding  the 


382  DUKE  JONES 

cup.  Violet  laughed  a  little  before  she  drank,  but  she 
followed  directions.  This  was  Maud's  way  when  anybody 
had  the  least  pretension  to  illness :  and  Maud  considered 
Violet  ill,  whatever  she  or  anybody  else  might  say  about 
it.  Maud  noticed  the  nice  little  maid,  Annette,  agreed 
with  her.  She  was  assured  by  Annette  that  Madame  did 
far  too  much,  and  did  not  repose  herself,  or  make  herself 
served,  sufficiently.  So  Maud  and  Annette  instantly 
formed  a  compact,  and  hatched  a  plot:  and  Violet  was, 
for  the  period  of  Miss  Gibbs'  visit,  very  delicate. 

"  You  haven't  quite  finished  it,"  said  Maud  encourag- 
ingly. "  Drink  it  up.  You  shall  think  wise  thoughts 
afterwards." 

"  My  thoughts  are  far  from  wise,"  said  Violet.  "  I 
was  only  wondering  whether " 

"  You  mustn't  wonder,"  said  Maud.  "  Whatever  it  is 
is  quite  all  right.  Annette  and  I  have  seen  to  it.  There's 
a  good  girl " 

She  withdrew  the  empty  cup  and  put  it  aside :  but  she 
still  knelt  where  she  was  by  the  sofa.  It  was  long  since 
she  had  seen  her  cousin,  whom  she  loved,  now  with  the 
admiration  of  a  simpler  nature,  now  with  the  protection 
of  an  elder  sister.  Maud  could  talk  much  more  freely  to 
Violet  than  to  Margery,  for  reasons  which  all  excellent 
elder  sisters  will  understand.  She  had  "  mothered " 
Margery,  with  sedulous  propriety,  from  the  moment  when 
her  own  mother,  in  her  last  illness,  put  the  charge  in  her 
hands,  to  the  moment  when  Sir  Robert  Brading  relieved 
her  of  it  solemnly  on  Margery's  wedding-day.  Duty  en- 
tered all  her  thoughts  of  Margery, — towards  Violet  she 
had  no  obligation  at  all.  It  was  a  case  of  independent, 
voluntary,  rather  audacious  discovery  on  Maud's  part, — 
and  that  made  all  the  difference. 

"  Don't  those  young  leaves  smell  heavenly?  "  said  Vio- 
let, reaching  to  a  tapering  branch  of  the  bathful  stand- 
ing in  the  grate.  "  Margery  brought  them  in.  You  and 
Margery  carry  the  country  about  with  you,  did  you 


MAUD  383 

know?  It's  simply  all  over  you,  in  the  nice  way  you 
speak,  and  think,  and  among  your  hair.  Do  you  remem- 
ber at  Glasswell,  how  Margery  liked  the  red  clover  best, 
and  you  the  white?  Well,  that's  just  all  the  difference 
between  you.  I  would  much  sooner  have  you  than  a 
Wrangler,  Maud." 

"  You  oughtn't  ever  to  have  nasty  visitors,"  said  Maud, 
stroking  down  her  hostess's  hair  attentively  with  both  her 
hands.  Maud — for  Maud — was  being  very  foolish,  it 
may  be  mentioned.  She  was  seldom  like  this  at  home, — 
had  not  shown  a  spark  of  such  fancy  since  her  cousin 
Miss  Ashwin  had  stayed  there  last.  "  That's  how  I  like 
it,  over  your  ears,  like  it  used  to  be  at  night  when  we  slept 
together.  Now  you  are  nice  little  Violet, — give  me  that 
other  hand." 

Mrs.  Shovell  did,  and  Maud  very  carefully  took  off  her 
wedding-ring,  slipping  it  on  to  her  own  finger  for  safety. 

"  There,"  she  said.  "  Now  I  can  take  care  of  Charlie, 
and  you  are  perfectly  free.  Doesn't  it  feel  nicer,  really  ?  " 

"  Much,"  said  Violet,  blinking.  "  Thank  you,  darling. 
These  are,  beyond  question,  the  most  tactful  attentions  I 
have  received  for  a  long  time.  You  are  extraordinarily 
unlike  a  Wrangler.  Do  go  on." 

"  There  isn't  much  else  to  do,"  explained  Maud.  "  Ex- 
cept to  take  that  necklace  off, — you  weren't  rich  enough 
for  pearls  at  Glasswell ;  at  least,  you  pretended  not.  You 
pretended  to  be  just  the  same  as  we  were,  except  when 
you  forgot.  Margery  and  I  always  loved  it  when  you 
forgot,  and  used  to  look  at  one  another  and  laugh.  You 
are  really  terribly,  terribly  grand  inside,  and  if  you  had 
been  anyone  else,  would  have  thought  us  dull.  Luckily 
you  were  not  anyone  else,  and  you  still  are  not,  though 
you  have  married  Charlie.  Margery  has  changed  utterly, 
but  you  are  the  same.  Margery  is  hardly  my  sister  now." 

"  Oh,  my  beloved,"  murmured  Violet,  "  don't  say  so. 
It's  only  the  baby  makes  a  difference,  for  the  time.  Per- 
haps if " 


384  DUKE  JONES 

"  No,"  said  Maud.  "  //  would  have  made  no  difference, 
with  you :  and  don't  talk  about  it,  or  I  shall  cry.  Besides, 
you  are  not  married,  darling:  I  have  got  your  ring." 

"  Is  it  all  dreams  ?  "  said  Violet. 

"  All  dreams."  A  long  pause  between  the  girls.  "  Vio- 
let," said  Maud  presently,  "  do  you  know  you  never  talked 
to  us  of  that.  Nearly  all  the  girls  we  knew  talked  stuff 
about  men,  and  jokes  they  hadn't  any  right  to  make.  But 
you  never  mentioned  it.  Were  you  shy  ?  " 

"  There  are  other  things,"  said  Mrs.  Shovell,  her  eyes 
turned  aside. 

"Heaps  of  people  were  in  love  with  you  even  then, 
Charlie  says,"  said  Maud,  beneath  her  breath. 

"  He  flatters  himself,"  said  Violet,  with  an  elfin  gleam. 
"  You  need  not  believe  him  on  the  subject." 

"  Everyone  thought  you  very  kind  to  take  Charlie," 
pursued  Maud.  "  I  noticed  that  at  the  wedding.  No, 
don't  talk,  it  is  sleepy-time.  Of  course,  I  should  never 
tell  him.  .  .  .  Your  neck  is  really  much  prettier  with- 
out the  pearls, — I  shall  put  them  round  your  hair.  No,  I 
won't,"  added  foolish  Maud  instantly,  "  because  that  will 
disturb  the  baby,  and  she  is  going  so  nicely  off  to  sleep." 

"  I  am  not  the  least  sleepy,"  said  Violet,  half-opening 
her  eyes.  "  Have  you  really  nothing  more  to  say  ?  It 
is  all  so  interesting." 

"  No,"  said  Maud.  "  It's  only  just  excitement,  at  being 
really  in  London  at  last.  It  feels  so  strange.  I  hated 
coming  up  to-day,  and  leaving  them  all.  I  cried  in  the 
train." 

"  Are  you  afraid  now  ?  "  said  Violet,  not  showing  the 
least  surprise.  She  knew  that  Maud  had  literally  never 
slept  away  from  home  before. 

"  No.  Because,  you  see,  I  thought  I  was  coming  to  a 
married-people's  house :  but  now  I  find  it's  only  you  and 
Charlie.  You  are  in  every  corner  of  the  house,"  said 
Maud,  laying  her  soft  cheek  against  Violet's,  "  and  espe- 


MAUD  385 

cially  in  my  bedroom.  You  put  yourself  there  on  pur- 
pose,— I  know.  I  shall  sleep  with  you  to-night, — again." 

"  Never  again,"  said  Violet. 

Her  eyes  were  closed,  as  she  spoke  in  the  voice  of 
dreams ;  so  Maud,  hoping  sleep  was  catching  her,  for  all 
the  little  line  on  her  brow,  did  not  answer,  or  comment, 
and  silence  fell. 

When  Charles  came  in,  Maud  was  still  by  the  sofa,  sit- 
ting on  a  cushion  on  the  floor,  with  Violet's  right  hand  in 
her  possession,  having  returned  the  wedding-ring  to  its 
place  on  her  left.  They  made  an  excessively  pretty  group, 
with  the  delicate  background  of  young  beech  leaves,  and 
the  mist  of  Margery's  hyacinths  behind :  and  it  would  have 
been  a  very  jealous  and  ill-conditioned  man  indeed  who 
would  have  wished  to  uproot  Maud  and  disturb  it. 

"  She's  asleep,"  said  Maud,  very  low.  "  Yes,  you  may : 
but  very  carefully."  Charles  did,  as  permitted.  He  rather 
liked  Maud, — some  unmarried  girls,  anyhow,  were  not 
hoydens.  Maud  was  not  a  hoyden,  and  he  had  a  very 
good  mind — but  not  the  instant  after  Violet.  It  would  do 
at  bed-time.  He  patted  Maud's  smooth  head. 

"  Read  us  a  fairy-story,  darling,"  said  Violet,  her  dark 
lashes  lifting  for  an  instant. 

"  Oh,  lovely,  Charlie, — do,"  said  Maud. 

Charles  had  a  new  book  of  fairy-stories,  as  yet  un- 
bound, which  his  firm  were  compiling,  lent  him  to  criti- 
cize professionally,  but  which  he  was  inclined  to  enjoy 
childishly  instead.  He  had  found  several  old  friends,  and 
several  delightful  new  ones.  They  were  all  very  simply 
told,  since  the  book  was  for  children's  hands, — "  none  of 
your  folklore  rubbish,"  as  he  said.  He  had  brought  the 
book  in  with  him,  to  use  it  as  work  or  pleasure,  whichever 
seemed  the  more  appropriate,  to  his  wife,  and  his  wife's 
guest. 

He  had  a  pleasant  voice  in  reading,  and  he  used,  for  the 


386  DUKE  JONES 

childish  fancies  he  dealt  with,  the  right  tone.  No  one 
could  have  failed  to  laugh,  or  thrill,  or  tremble,  in  the 
right  places.  He  had  a  natural  instinct  in  such  things,  as 
even  his  critical  father-in-law  admitted, — the  great,  slight 
things,  needing  taste  and  a  light  touch,  which  Claude 
called  "  lyrical." 

So  he  read,  and  they  listened, — and  with  them  listened 
a  little  ghost.  It  was  there,  for  Violet  first,  and  but  a 
little  later  for  Maud,  and  not  at  all  for  Charles  the  reader, 
as  was  right.  He  thought  of  his  reading,  not  his  audience, 
real  or  ghostly.  He  was  enjoying  himself,  as  the  listening 
child  would  have  enjoyed.  It  was  that  that  gave  the 
episode  its  perfection,  a  perfection  granted  to  certain  mo- 
ments of  our  haphazard  life,  and  which  must,  with  the 
personal  inspiration,  have  the  local  inspiration  behind  it  as 
well.  Maud,  who  never  forgot  the  scene,  fresh  and  strik- 
ing to  her  mind,  as  all  was  fresh,  this  strange  night  she 
was  sleeping  far  from  her  own,  felt  the  twofold  influence 
keenly. 

"  It  is  a  heavenly  house,"  thought  Maud.  "  New,  but 
all  lovely, — solid.  It  is  clean, — there  was  a  horror,  but 
they  have  swept  it  right  away.  She  has  swept  it, — he 
could  not.  She  has  done  it  all  alone." 

She  looked  at  Violet's  tranquil,  tired  face,  and  added, 
in  the  demure  recesses  of  her  little  maiden  mind: 

"  I  should  think  hers  is  the  right  way  to  be  married — 
if  you  must." 

IV 

"Miss  Gibbs,— Mr.  Jones,"  said  Violet.  "This  is  all 
of  us.  It  is  really  terribly  kind  of  you  to  come." 

Jones  did  not  feel  kind,  and  he  certainly  did  not  look 
terrible.  He  looked  so  absolutely  decorous  and  unpre- 
tending, that  Maud's  shivering  spirit  was  immediately 
reassured :  and  this  quartet  of  Mrs.  Shovell's  originating 
started,  from  the  first,  in  excellent  tune  and  complete 
accord. 


MAUD  387 

Jones,  hardly  to  his  surprise  in  this  house  of  constant 
marvels,  found  himself  in  a  new  room.  Violet  had  told 
Charles  with  decision  that  Mr.  Jones  would  be  more  com- 
fortable in  the  study  than  the  drawing-room;  and  since 
it  was  their  ordinary  custom  to  occupy  it  on  Sunday 
evenings  when  alone,  Charles  had  offered  no  objection. 
On  the  contrary,  indeed,  since  by  this  means  the  party 
need  not  separate  into  its  elements,  according  to  the 
absurd  British  custom,  after  dinner;  and  the  girls  could 
continue  to  save  Charles  the  trouble  of  talking  to  his 
guest,  as  was  indeed,  in  the  guest's  interest  and  that  of 
Maud,  most  desirable. 

Charles'  study  was  the  best  room  on  the  ground-floor, 
and  should  by  rights  have  been  the  drawing-room;  only 
Violet  had  given  it  over  to  him  because  the  view,  ap- 
proaching to  the  pastoral,  on  to  some  ten  square  yards  of 
grass,  was  so  nice  and  inspiring  for  him.  It  had  some  of 
its  owner's  personal  oddities  about  it,  including  what 
Violet  kindly  called  his  Cambridge  toys;  but  the  aspect 
generally  was  inviting,  with  comfortable  chairs,  a  spa- 
cious hearth,  and  a  window  opening  straight  upon  the 
garden-path,  so  that  the  poet  could  stroll  beyond  its 
bounds  if  the  muse  exacted  it. 

There  was  another  spirit  in  the  room  besides  Charles' 
muse,  for  those  who  felt  such  presences :  since  the  study, 
for  want  of  space  elsewhere,  housed  Mrs.  Shovell's  grand 
piano.  Charles  did  not  feel  it,  naturally,  since  he  was  out 
at  work  when  she  trespassed  regularly  on  his  precincts, 
and  the  discreet  echoes,  sleeping  among  her  husband's 
books,  never  betrayed  her.  As  a  fact,  Violet  occupied  the 
study  nearly  as  much  as  Charles  did,  and  studied  in  it, 
perhaps,  rather  more  than  he.  The  speculation  need  not 
be  pursued  for  the  present  purposes.  However  it  may 
have  been,  the  atmosphere  of  these  masculine  quarters 
was  sympathetic  to  both  sexes,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shovell 
used  it,  for  the  most  sociable  hour  of  the  working  week, 
by  common  consent. 


388  DUKE  JONES 

Maud  and  Mr.  Jones  did  not  make  friends  instantly,  of 
course ;  they  were  both  far  too  correct.  Violet  had  to  talk 
to  him  at  first,  since  Violet  was  his  hostess,  and  his  first 
acquaintance  as  well ;  and  Maud  merely  added  a  word  in 
season,  and  a  pretty  smile.  But  their  eyes  discovered  one 
another  at  every  discreet  opportunity,  and  they  plunged 
into  intimacy  on  one  of  their  innumerable  common  sub- 
jects after  dinner.  The  talk  throughout  that  nondescript 
meal  had  hovered,  seemed  to  settle,  distracted  itself  again 
owing  to  Charles'  en  fan  tillages,  and  then  veered  in  the 
right  direction.  After  dinner,  owing  to  a  chance  allusion 
of  Violet's,  a  prominent  interest  of  both  came  uppermost, 
and  Maud  and  Mr.  Jones  joined  forces. 

Then,  and  not  till  then,  having  leisure,  did  Mrs.  Shovell 
look  at  Mr.  Shovell,  and  allow  him  to  scorch  her  with  such 
mockery  as  he  would.  She  clasped  her  hands  about  her 
knees  and  faced  him  serenely,  high  above  criticism,  since 
really  the  thing  defended  itself.  It  was  one  of  nature's 
works  of  art,  not  hers.  There  was  Maud,  and  there  was 
Mr. 'Jones,  both  busy  and  benevolent  people  in  their  own 
spheres  and  parishes.  She  was  pretty  and  sensible,  and 
he  was  nice,  and  rich.  Where  could  be  the  harm  of  their 
meeting  for  a  pleasant  evening's  chat  like  this?  They 
were  both,  quite  obviously,  enjoying  it  so  much.  They 
were  already  such  excellent  friends. 

Friends !  That  was  the  crucial  question  of  the  evening  : 
the  definition,  extent,  and  exact  limitation  of  that  most 
fugitive  word.  Charles  himself  had  quantities  of  friends, 
of  every  variety  and  description,  so  that  he  was  evidently 
the  person  present  fittest  to  judge  upon  the  case.  He 
judged,  very  much  at  his  ease,  blowing  smoke-rings 
pensively  in  his  favorite  chair.  He  and  Violet  had  been 
friends  before  their  marriage;  at  least  Charles  thought 
the  word  would  do.  He  imagined,  since  he  had  a  vigorous 
fancy,  and  full  leisure  to  make  the  effort,  that  he  had  once 
looked  at  Miss  Ashwin  with  intelligent  appreciation  and 
respectful  curiosity,  even  as  Marmaduke  was  looking  at 


MAUD  389 

Miss  Gibbs.  He  was  pretty  sure  Violet  had  looked  non- 
committally  well-disposed,  and  gracefully  attentive,  as 
Maud  was  looking  at  Mr.  Jones.  In  the  subject  they  had 
in  hand, — which  did  not  interest  Charles  much,  though 
Violet  was  listening  closely  while  she  sewed, — they  seemed 
both  very  eager  to  impart  their  personal  experiences  (he 
remembered  that,  in  his  own  case)  and  each  capable,  at 
moments,  of  anticipating  what  the  other  was  going  to  say 
(Violet  had  more  than  once  done  so,  he  recollected).  It 
was  a  liberal  though  quiet  entertainment,  for  Charles, 
from  the  heights  of  married  manhood,  to  look  down  on 
these  young  people's  efforts  to  place  themselves  in  life. 
It  was  lucky  for  them  they  had  his  wife's  encouragement 
and  support  in  their  undertaking, — very.  He  hardly 
thought  they  would  ever  have  brought  it  off  without,  even 
granted  a  casual  meeting  in  somebody's  comfortable  but 
untidy  study,  and  with  somebody's  cook's  thoroughly 
good  supper  to  cheer  them  first.  They  were  both  so 
ridiculously  diffident  and  shrinking, — a  thing  which 
Charles  had  never  been,  even  when  he  proposed,  for  the 
fourth  or  fifth  time, — he  had  really  forgotten  which, — to 
Violet  Ashwin  in  Maud's  father's  Rectory  in  the  country. 
Just  about  there  in  his  reflections,  his  second  cigarette 
gave  out,  and  he  found  he  had  used  his  last  match.  Turn- 
ing to  complain  to  Violet  of  this  unheard-of  trick  of  fate, 
and  get  her  to  suggest  places  where  matches  might  be 
lurking,  and  so  spare  disturbing  Jones'  promising  ro- 
mance, he  found  her  wrapped  in  the  contemplation  of 
Maud,  who  was  wrapped  in  the  contemplation  of  a  blue 
pamphlet  Jones  had  produced  from  his  pocket:  and 
Jones, — of  all  impudence, — wrapped  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  her:  Charles'  wife,  not  his  stepsister,  as  was 
expected  of  Jones.  Just  at  that  minute,  perhaps  owing 
to  the  annoyance  of  the  match  problem,  Charles  found 
that  it  wouldn't  do.  Someone  must  throw  a  bomb  and 
blow  up  that  condition  of  things,  anyhow:  so  he  threw 
one. 


390  DUKE  JONES 

"Won't  one  of  you  girls  play  something?"  said 
Charles.  "  Jones,  have  you  got  a  match  ?  " 

The  bomb  went  off  admirably.  Everybody  started,  and 
then  everybody  spoke.  It  was  really  quite  an  amusing 
experiment. 

"  She'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Maud  absently, 
from  the  pamphlet. 

"  Awfully  sorry,  Shovell, — in  my  other  coat,"  said 
Jones. 

"  You  have  stolen  both  my  downstairs  boxes,  though 
I  marked  them,"  said  Violet  patiently,  and  rose. 

She  rose,  of  course,  to  find  the  matches  for  him :  he  did 
not  really  expect  her  to  play, — nobody  wanted  music. 
Charles  did  not,  at  least.  But  Jones  rose  too,  instantly, 
looking  at  her  with  dog's  eyes  of  service, — ready  to  run 
and  fetch  those  matches  from  any  corner  of  the  house, 
and  return  with  them,  wagging  his  tail.  Or  to  open  the 
piano,  of  course,  if  that  was  her  gracious  pleasure: 
though,  since  he  was  the  only  guest,  he  dared  not  presume 
she  would. 

"  He  will  see  one  of  your  boxes  on  his  own  writing- 
table,  if  he  just  takes  the  trouble  to  turn  round,"  said 
Maud  reposefully  from  the  pamphlet.  "  Dear,  of  course 
we  should  love  it,  but  are  you  sure  you  really  ought  ?  " 

"  I  have  hardly  found  my  fingers,"  said  Violet,  who 
seldom  went  through  the  forms  called  by  the  French 
"  making  herself  prayed."  "  You  can  all  go  on  talking 
while  I  find  them ;  do  you  mind  ?  I  shall  only  remember 
some  little  tunes,  most  probably." 

Marmaduke  sat  down  again,  flushed.  He  and  Maud, 
with  the  blue  pamphlet  between  them,  followed  directions. 
They  settled  into  talk  again,  more  seriously  than  ever, 
low-toned  as  well,  a  genuine  tcte-a-tete.  Charles,  having 
found  the  matches,  very  cleverly,  in  the  place  his  step- 
sister indicated,  wandered  about  the  room,  toyed  with  his 
precious  texts  a  little,  watched  Violet  for  a  time  with 
mild  amusement,  and  then,  since  she  did  not  seem  inclined 


MAUD  391 

to  give  half  her  attention  to  him  continuously,  as  he 
hoped,  moved  on.  Having  opened  the  French  window  a 
crack,  in  obedience  to  a  sign  from  Violet,  he  was  tempted 
by  the  early-summer  savors  entering,  went  through  it, 
and  out  into  the  air.  This  was  the  cleverest  thing  he  had 
done  yet,  since  the  night  was  warm  and  balmy,  and  those 
girls  inside  obviously  did  not  want  him  about.  Maud 
was  wrapped  in  Marmaduke,  and  Violet  in  music,  for  the 
time.  Nor  could  Marmaduke  get  at  Violet,  while  music 
had  got  all  of  her.  Her  music  was  one  of  the  things  that 
cut  Charles  out,  but  at  least  it  cut  other  fellows  too.  That 
is,  unless  the  other  fellows,  like  that  freak  Ford,  insinu- 
ated themselves  into  the  musical  ring  that  enclosed  her, 
and  made  themselves  offensive  by  talking  to  her  at  great 
length  on  subjects  which  Charles  did  not  understand. 

Thus  a  considerable,  and  for  Charles  a  most  contented, 
period  passed.  When  Violet's  little  tunes,  which  had 
grown  into  rather  long  ones,  ended,  he  supposed  he  had 
better  come  in  and  see  how  Marmaduke  and  Maud  were 
getting  on.  The  state  of  things  he  found  in  the  study  was 
most  encouraging.  They  had  got  ever  so  far;  Charles' 
tactful  diplomacy  in  leaving  them  together  was  justified, 
and  Violet's  idea  of  playing  to  them  had  evidently  been 
not  half  bad.  Music  is  known,  if  it  does  nothing  else,  to 
buck  up  people's  spirits  and  make  them  feel  agreeably 
sentimental.  Violet's  little  tunes  had  had  that  effect  on 
Charles  in  the  garden:  he  had  thought  of  all  sorts  of 
things,  in  a  pleasing  and  melancholy  vein:  and  got  the 
lines  of  a  sonnet  straight  that  had  plagued  him  for  some 
time. 

Jones'  affair  with  Maud, — it  really  had  assumed  the 
dimensions  of  an  affair, — had  come  straight  as  well.  They 
understood  one  another,  and  looked  one  another  in  the 
eyes.  Maud  was  a  capital  girl,  really,  and  was  looking 
extremely  pretty  in  her  bridesmaid's  dress,  and  Charles' 
own  pendant:  and  he  was  proud  of  her,  and  it.  Jones 
was  an  uncommon  good  little  fellow,  and  looked  ever  so 


392  DUKE  JONES 

much  the  better  for  his  delightful  evening  in  Charles' 
house,  and  the  company  of  the  nice  girl  he  had  provided, 
not  too  good  for  him,  but  good  enough.  He  had  the 
means  to  marry  on,  too:  more, — about  twice  as  much — 
as  Charles  had  when  he  claimed  Miss  Ashwin.  Maud, 
on  the  other  hand,  had  about  a  quarter  of  her  cousin's 
dowry,  but  then  she  was  a  girl  of  excellent  stock.  The 
Ashwins  were  quite  a  decent  family,  though  of  course 
the  Shovells  and  Ingestres  flew  a  bit  higher,  according  to 
the  heraldic  estimation.  As  for  the  Gibbses  and  the 
Joneses,  Charles  did  not  pursue  the  point.  It  is  perhaps 
as  well  for  Mr.  Shovell's  dignity  that  he  did  not  pursue  it, 
or  put  himself  out  to  chase  into  the  mists  of  antiquity  two 
such  excellent  English  names. 

"  It  is  awfully  good  of  you,  Mrs.  Shovell,"  said  Jones, 
still  slightly  pink :  alluding  to  Maud's  company,  or  to  the 
tunes,  or  to  the  dinner,  or  all  three. 

"  Mr.  Jones  has  made  a  lovely  plan,  dear,"  said  Maud, 
who  was  looking  quite  lively,  and  seemed  to  have  lost  her 
shyness.  "  He  wants  to  fetch  us  to-morrow  afternoon, 
and,  if  you  feel  up  to  it,  drive  us  down  to  Leatherhead 
to  see  his  garden." 

The  deuce  he  does,  thought  Charles :  he  knows  how  to 
make  the  best  of  his  time,  the  little  beggar !  Charles  was 
almost  offended,  in  the  person  of  Jones'  patron,  host, 
narrative-compiler,  and  bear-leader  in  general,  that  he 
should  have  presumed  to  take  so  important  a  step  as  this 
without  being  prompted  by  him,  or  at  least  by  Violet.  He 
pinched  Violet's  arm,  by  way  of  a  general  indication  of 
the  line  to  take.  She  was  to  accept,  without  laying  too 
much  stress  upon  it,  naturally :  to  accept  laughingly,  in  a 
fashion  she  could  manage  very  well. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to,"  said  Violet.  "  It  is  almost 
too  nice  an  idea,  I  mean,  to  come  true." 

All  three  looked  at  her  hastily,  for  her  tone  was  trem- 
ulous, and  found  she  was  very  pale.  Maud,  with  a  glance 
at  her  new  friend,  slid  an  arm  behind  her  cousin  incon- 


MAUD  393 

spicuously.  Jones,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  said 
good  night  in  his  most  ordinary  voice,  and  took  his  de- 
parture. Charles, — since  Maud  could  be  trusted, — went 
out  with  his  visitor  to  the  door. 

"  She'll  be  all  right,"  he  said,  since  the  little  man  looked 
so  unhappy,  as  pale  as  Violet  almost,  all  his  new-found 
prosperity  spoilt.  "  She  oughtn't  to  have  played  so  long, 
probably.  She  forgets,  and  lets  herself  go,  when  she 
plays." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Jones :  raging  internally. 

Why  had  Shovell  let  her  play,  then  ?  He,  Jones,  could 
not  have  stopped  her,  while  she  was  blessing  their  ears, — 
Jones'  ears,  it  is  enough  to  mention,  were  Welsh, — with 
her  heavenly  melodies,  gathered  out  of  every  corner  of 
great  art.  Even  had  he  found  the  will  to  do  so,  he  could 
not  have  ventured,  after  the  way  she  had  crushed  him 
yesterday.  Miss  Gibbs,  though  a  kind-hearted  and  charm- 
ing girl,  was  thoroughly  unmusical,  and  could  not  have 
heard,  or  interpreted  had  she  heard,  that  passionate  pain. 
Only  her  husband,  knowing  her  as  he  ought,  sensitive  as 
he  should  be  to  imaginative  beauty,  since  he  dealt  in 
poetry,  could  have  acted,  stopped  her,  saved  her  from 
herself,  and  them  from  this  fruitless  self-reproach. 

Marmaduke  left  the  little  house  in  Livingstone  Gardens 
unconsoled,  and  unforgiving.  One  had  too  much  even  of 
such  nice  fellows  as  Shovell  occasionally.  Shovell  meant 
well,  as  the  world  says,  but  he  did  not  think  enough. 
He  had  not  been  trained  to  see  the  needs  of  others,  he 
merely  called  attention  to  his  own.  He  took  far  too 
easily,  on  his  side,  what  she  offered,  on  hers,  with  pain : 
nor  recognized,  Jones  believed,  the  worth  of  what  he  took. 
She, — Jones  failed  to  correct  the  pronoun  in  his  mind 
to-night, — she  was  giving  constantly  from  her  private 
store,  waiting  for  him,  schooling  her  fierce  little  spirit  to 
attend  on  his.  He  abused  her  kindness,  obviously,  in 
slight  ways  the  bystander  could  see :  perhaps  in  ways  less 
slight  of  which  the  bystander  dared  not  think.  She 


394  DUKE  JONES 

deserved  more,  much  more,  than  Shovell  at  his  best  could 
ever  give.  It  was  doubtful  if  the  man  could  be  found  to 
give  her  her  deserts, — but  Marmaduke,  at  least,  would 
have  attempted  it. 

Jones  knew  well  enough,  of  course,  on  leaving  her  house 
that  evening,  how  he  stood  towards  her ;  but  he  was  much 
too  angry  for  the  moment  to  be  ashamed,  or  even  abashed, 
by  the  discovery.  The  shock  was  his  awakening:  the 
shock  of  seeing  her  pale  and  shaken  like  that,  her  little 
sentences,  so  dear  to  him  in  their  completeness,  disjointed, 
her  lofty  pride  failing,  her  delicate  voice  faltering,  her 
purposes,  even  for  their  good,  at  sea.  All  within  reach  of 
him, — and  he  not  allowed,  by  the  unjust  heaven  he 
served,  to  catch  her,  comfort  and  console  her  as  he  could, 
— as  he  believed  he  could, — since  nature  had  made  them 
near  in  heart  and  soul. 

He  went  home,  and  raged  all  night,  like  a  man,  not  a 
conscientious  automaton:  for  there  was  a  man  in  Jones. 
But  his  purpose,  long  set  and  deeply  rooted,  of  serving 
her  in  the  only  way  his  unjust  heaven  had  granted  to  his 
inherited  ideas,  was  not  shaken,  not  seriously  shaken,  even 
then.  Passion,  in  the  end,  turned  to  obstinacy  in  Jones. 
The  closing  of  one  path, — to  his  mind,  the  final  closing, — 
only  drove  him  headlong  down  the  other.  She  had  offered 
him  long  since  a  work  that  he  could  accomplish,  not  quite 
completed  yet.  He  was  a  singularly  tenacious  person. 

v 

"  She  says  it  was  silly  of  her  to  play,  dear,"  reported 
Maud  to  Charles,  when  she  came  to  him  from  the  upper 
regions  later  on.  "  And  she  was  temporarily  asphyxiated 
because  you  forgot  when  you  went  out,  and  shut  the 
window ;  and  she  will  try  smokelessness  and  solitude,  and 
you  are  not  to  think  about  her,  and  that's  all." 

"  How  do  you  like  Jones  ?  "  said  Charles,  when  he  had 
ceased  thinking  about  Violet,  encouraged  by  Maud. 
"  Nice  little  shaver,  isn't  he  ?  " 


MAUD  395 

"  He  seems  to  me  unusually  sensible,"  said  Maud. 

Good ! — Jones  would  probably  tell  his  friend  the  curate 
the  same  thing, — that  he  had  met  an  "  unusually  sen- 
sible "  girl,  at  the  house  of  "  some  people  he  knew." 
And  the  curate,  having  experience  of  Jones,  would  draw 
the  correct  conclusions. 

"  Keen  about  useful  things,  and  so  on,"  said  Charles, 
who  had  now  put  most  of  the  sonnet  on  paper.  "  You 
seemed  to  find  enough  to  talk  about,  anyhow.  Didn't 
find  him  a  bore,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least,"  said  Maud,  standing  pensive  by  the 
study  chimney-piece,  and  examining  Charles'  toys  upon 
it.  "  I  wish  I  was  musical." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Charles  suspiciously.  It  would  be  more 
to  the  point  if  Maud  wished  she  were  married.  With 
himself  and  Violet  constantly  before  her  eyes,  that  was 
the  sentiment  that  would  have  been  really  creditable  and 
timely,  on  Maud's  part. 

"  I  always  feel  so  stupid  with  people  who  like  music," 
said  Maud,  "  when  I  don't.  He  knew  what  all  the  things 
were  she  played.  He  doesn't  play  himself,  but  he  has 
subscription  tickets  to  all  the  concerts,  and  gives  them 
away  when  he  can't." 

Charles  considered  whether  this  personal  detail,  sup- 
plied by  Maud,  a  mutual  friend,  need  be  added  to  Jones' 
narrative  as  a  note,  and  decided  not.  It  could  not  be  of 
the  least  interest  to  Jones'  readers. 

"  He  never  knew  she  did  before,"  said  Maud.  "  It's 
funny  how  lots  of  people  don't  know,  even  with  her 
beautiful  little  hands.  Mr.  Shepherd  said  he  could  have 
guessed  by  her  hands,  once,  when  she  played  to  us  at 
Glasswell." 

What,  Charles  asked  his  gods,  was  Mr.  Shepherd  doing 
in  this  conversation?  Maud  seemed  to  be  growing  care- 
less of  their  kind  plans  for  her.  She  had  far  better 
stick  to  Jones, — Jones  being,  in  the  latest  edition,  since 
the  demise  of  Mr.  Shepherd,  that  is,  her  one  chance  in 


396  DUKE  JONES 

life.  Violet  was  coming  into  the  business  a  little  more 
than  was  quite  necessary,  too. 

"What  did  you  talk  about?"  said  Charles,  growing 
impatient  suddenly. 

"  Her,  chiefly,"  said  Maud.  "  We  got  on  to  Glasswell 
and  all  sorts  of  things  by  the  way.  I  hope  Mr.  Jones 
wasn't  bored  too  dreadfully,  but  I  simply  can't  talk  music 
and  clever  things.  I  would  if  I  could." 

One  more  long  pause.  It  needed  all  Charles'  celebrated 
skill  as  compiler  and  annotator,  to  extract,  from  Maud's 
commonplace  and  careless  remarks,  what  really  had 
occurred  between  her  and  Jones.  They  could  not  possibly 
have  talked  about  Violet,  with  a  blue  pamphlet  between 
them,  all  that  time.  To  start  from  their  hostess,  as  a 
common  theme,  was  perfectly  natural.  But 

"  Did  you  tell  him  about  the  hens  ?  "  said  Charles. 

"  A  little,"  said  Maud.  "  He  was  interested  in  the 
garden  chiefly,  because  he  loves  his  own.  I  should  like  to 
see  his  garden,"  she  added,  with  a  touch  of  shyness. 

"  I'll  take  you  down  to-morrow,  if  she  can't,"  said 
Charles,  with  a  supreme  effort  for  Maud's  good. 

"  Oh,  dear  Charlie,  how  nice  of  you !  But  I  am  afraid 
Mr.  Jones  would  not  like  that  at  all.  We  had  better  wait, 
as  he  suggested,  till  next  Sunday." 

"  Maud,"  said  Charles  warningly,  "  Marmaduke  Jones 
is  very  fond  of  me.  You  have  no  idea  the  friends  we  are : 
always  were,  from  the  first." 

"  Goose,"  said  Maud,  tweaking  his  hair.  "  Why  didn't 
he  ask  you,  then?  He  must  have  known  it  was  Whit- 
Monday,  and  you  were  free." 

"  Maud,"  said  Charles,  with  the  effort  of  real  despair, 
"do  you  know  you  are  being,  indirectly,  rather  vulgar? 
I  can't  believe  that  you  mean  to  imply  what  you  do." 

"  Imply  ?  "  said  Maud,  opening  her  eyes.  "  I  don't 
know  what  you  are  talking  about.  You're  doing  all  the 
implying,  if  there  is  any.  He  likes  Violet  a  lot  better 
than  you,  or  me  either,  that's  all  I  mean.  He  says  she  has 


MAUD  397 

been  most  fearfully  kind  to  him, — and  I  said  he  was  not 
the  first  to  discover  it.  If  you  can't  speak  up  for  Violet 
to  people,  I  can, — and  I  did.  He  quite  agreed  with  all  I 
said,  or  at  least  he  seemed  to.  Of  course,  he  was  listen- 
ing to  the  music." 

So  that  was  what  Maud  meant  by  sensible !    Sensible ! 

Charles  gave  Maud  up  finally, — her  ideas  were  not  his, 
— and  went  to  Violet  to  complain.  Violet's  ideas  were  his, 
or  at  least  they  generally  seemed  so.  He  found  her  still 
trying  the  effects  of  smokelessness  and  solitude,  wrapped 
in  one  of  the  crisp  white  things  Charles  liked,  curled 
among  cushions  on  the  long  chair  in  her  room.  She  was 
not  asleep, — far  from  it.  Her  eyes  were  brilliant,  though 
she  blinked,  protesting,  when  he  turned  up  the  full  light. 
But  he  left  it  so,  for  he  needed  to  observe  her  rather 
closely  while  he  talked.  She  looked  very  white  still,  and, 
Charles  regretted  to  observe,  rather  wicked:  at  least,  as 
soon  as  her  bright  eyes  reached  his  face.  But  she  at- 
tended nicely  to  his  complaints  of  Maud,  for  whose 
frivolous  and  unsatisfactory  behavior  she,  as  Maud's 
chaperon,  cousin,  and  fellow-woman,  was  responsible. 

"  When  we  do  all  that  for  her !  "  was  Charles' 

line.  He  had  adopted  the  whole  plan  in  Maud's  interest 
as  his  own :  with  some  justification,  since  his  had  been  the 
motive  force,  during  the  evening,  in  pushing  it  through. 
Violet  had  only  played  little  tunes,  in  the  distance,  and 
studied  her  cousin,  now  and  then,  with  close  and  affec- 
tionate interest. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Violet  calmly,  her  chin  propped  on 
her  hand.  "  I  thought  you  saw  it  was  hopeless  when  I 
did.  I  really  gave  up  before  I  began  to  play.  Exactly 
when  you  asked  for  the  matches  the  tail  of  my  last  hope 
was  vanishing." 

"Really?"  said  Charles  sarcastically.     "Why?" 

It  was  exactly  at  that  moment  he  had  surprised  Jones 
gazing  at  her  so  earnestly. 


398  DUKE  JONES 

"  Not  him,"  said  Violet,  penetrating  all  his  thought,  and 
putting  a  hand  on  his  arm.  "  He  would  do  it  in  time,  I 
think,  with  proper  attention, — not  from  me.  He  has  only 
got  rather — rather  a  habit  of  liking  me,  if  you  under- 
stand. Please,  dear,  don't!— It's  Maud." 

"  She  likes  him,"  asseverated  Charles,  generously  re- 
fraining from  torment,  since  she  physically  shrank. 

"  Very  much ;  they  are  thoroughly  in  sympathy.  Charm- 
ing people  both ;  it  did  me  good  to  hear  them.  As  keen 
one  as  the  other,  aren't  they  ? — they  match  well.  It  would 
literally  be  a  good  match,  Charles, — academically." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  academically  ?  "  said  Charles. 

"  Oh,  in  committee.    Clever  people,  like  you  and  me." 

"  He's  comfortably  off,"  argued  Charles. 

"Quite.  Not  that  Maud  or  Uncle  Arthur  would 
think  of  that." 

"  And  just  the  right  age  for  her, — he's  thirty-two." 

"  Beautiful,"  said  Violet  desolately.  "  It's  a  moral 
against  the  committee,  isn't  it?  Since  naturally,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  it  can't  be  done." 

"Why,  you  little— caviler?" 

"  It's  not  him  she  wouldn't  look  at, — it's  anyone.  No- 
body believed  in  Mr.  Shepherd  at  Glasswell,  really:  he 
was  only  a  playful  consolation.  Can't  you  see  her  little 
quiver  and  crescent?  She'll  be  friendly,  though  always 
frightened  a  little ;  but  if  anyone  tries  to  catch  her, — gare 
a  lui ! " 

"Rot!"  said  Mr.  Shovell,  with  immense  vigor,  turn- 
ing. "  What  do  you  know  about  quivers  and  crescents  ? 
You  go  to  sleep." 

It  struck  him,  at  the  moment  of  speaking,  how  well  the 
crescent  would  look  in  her  dark  hair.  It  was  she,  not 
Maud,  who  should  have  carried  it.  She  had  the  wild 
woodland  air,  this  evening,  precisely;  half-tamed,  if  at 
all,  Charles  would  have  said.  Her  eyes,  after  the  first 
keen  glance,  had  been  shy  of  him;  and  when  he  swung 
round  on  her  suddenly,  she  shrank  away. 


MAUD  399 

"  My  distaff  is  downstairs,"  she  murmured  deprecating. 
"  I  am  talking  about  Maud." 

"  Go  to  sleep,"  growled  Charles,  and  turned  his  back 
again.  He  let  her  go  to  sleep  for  some  three  minutes, 
moving  restlessly  about  the  room,  among  her  familiar 
possessions,  and  feeling  discontented.  Then  he  broke 
out: 

"  She's  better  than  I  thought,  all  round.  Talks  well, 
when  she  finds  her  line:  looks  awfully  well,  upon  my 
word.  If  you  dressed  her  a  bit,  she'd  be  good  enough 
for  anybody.  She  knows  when  to  laugh — only  about  one 
girl  in  six  knows  that — you  don't " — at  a  sound  behind 
him.  "  She — she's  inviting.  She's  attractive.  Any  fel- 
low would " 

"  Yes,  but  any  fellow  won't,"  said  Violet.  "  Maud's  a 
darling,  I  quite  agree.  I  could  venture  even  further  in  her 
praises.  But  I  had  forgotten  her  a  little,  all  the  same,  or 
I  should  have  known  better  than  to  lay  snares  for  her. 
That's  all.  Luckily  she  leapt  over  it, — they  do." 

"Who  do?" 

"  Those  tunicked  people.  I  remembered  as  I  watched. 
She  just  slipped  round  quietly,  and  made  friends  with 
him  in  our  despite.  It's  lovely  to  be  like  that,"  said 
Violet  earnestly.  "Don't  you  think?" 

Charles  did  not  think.  And  his  whole  bearing  protested 
against  her  so  thinking,  though  he  could  not,  for  the 
moment,  find  words  for  his  surging  sentiments. 

"  You  wanted  her  to  be  married  yesterday,  " — the  sen- 
timents resolved  themselves  finally. 

"  No,  no.  I  wanted  her  to  console  him, — and  so  on. 
I  even  think  she  may  have,  a  little.  I  hope  so, — she  was 
so  sweet." 

"  Did  you  happen  to  notice  his  face  when  he  left  ?  " 
said  Charles: — and  then  regretted  the  saying,  for  she 
winced  again,  and  turned  her  head  from  him.  "  Don't 
you  want  her  to  be  married  ?  "  he  pressed  obstinately  on. 

"  I  want  what  she  wants,  exactly.     I  love  her,  dear." 


400  DUKE  JONES 

Her  tone  was  shaken  a  little,  and  she  pushed  a  hand  in 
his  direction.  It  was  a  plea  to  be  spared  examination,  but 
he  would  not  read  it  so.  He  felt  she  was  evading  him, 
slipping  through  his  fingers,  and  that  is  vexatious. 

"  I  had  not  considered  her  enough,"  she  repeated,  en- 
deavoring to  make  it  clear.  "  I  had  hardly  thought  of 
her  at  all.  I  was — a  little  at  my  wits'  end— seeking 
expedients,  if  you  understand.  So  I  was  commonplace 
unconsciously,  and  I  thought  Maud  would  do.  I  thought 
I  could  use  her,"  murmured  Violet,  her  eyes  dreaming 
in  wonder  over  the  vision  of  Maud  she  had  invented: 
Charles  was  convinced  she  had  invented  it,  while  she  lay 
half  asleep  in  her  smokeless  solitude  lately.  She  had  been 
weaving  forest  fairy-tales,  and  the  pleasant  and  practical 
Miss  Gibbs  had  slipped  in  as  the  heroine  of  one  of  them 
by  an  oversight;  that  was  all. 

"  I  did  her  a  horrid  injustice,"  finished  Violet,  settling 
sidelong  among  her  cushions.  "  And  I  beg  her  pardon, — 
her  goddess's.  Dear  thing."  She  shut  her  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  an  injustice?  "    The  examiner 
nailed  her.    His  tone  suggested  that  he  had  her  now. 
"  Oh,  haven't  I  explained  ?    I  am  so  tired." 
"  No.    I  don't  care  for  the  word.    Why  unjust?  " 
"  Unjust  to  the  type,"  she  suggested,  sliding  a  glance  at 
him. 

"  Oh,"  said  Charles,  stopping.  "  Er — yes :  I  pass  that 
answer." 

"  Thanks.  I  did  try  so  hard.  May  I  go  to  sleep 
now  ?  " 

Having  taken  note  of  her  expression  in  detail,  he  came 
quite  close.  "  If  I  had  had  you  in  my  class  ever,"  he  re- 
marked in  confidence,  "  and  you  had  looked  at  me  like 
that,  I'd  have " 

"  Please !  "  she  gasped,  recoiling.  It  was  impossible  to 
say  if  she  were  really  frightened,  or  feigning  it,  she 
feigned  so  well. 

There  was  less  doubt  of  his  vexation :  but  he  held  her 


MAUD  401 

now,  at  least,  so  far  as  hands  may  hold.  He  had  taken 
her  ear  between  his  fingers  when  he  threatened  her,  hav- 
ing discovered  it  with  some  difficulty  among  the  cloud 
of  hair  that  was  slipping  down  her  neck.  He  continued 
to  hold  it,  standing  over  her,  while  he  thought  things  out 
at  his  leisure. 

The  fact  that  Violet  should  support, — nay  applaud, — 
her  cousin  in  these  unwomanly  cranks  displeased  him; 
since  she  was  not  only  his  for  better  for  worse, — distinctly 
for  his  better,  so  far, — but  had  led  on  young  fellows 
like  Jones,  to  mention  no  others  Charles  could  think  of, 
to  look  at  her  in  an  absurd  and  dog-like  fashion,  as 
though  inviting  her  to  use  them  as  a  mat  to  walk  over, 
when  she  stepped  about  her  rooms.  It  is  pure  pose, 
Charles  considered,  to  crack  up  quivers  and  crescents,  the 
regalia  of  the  maiden  Artemis,  and  the  airy  joys  of  the 
unmated,  when  your  proceedings  in  the  paths  of  life  bear 
any  resemblance  to  the  above.  She  might  be  doing  it 
simply  to  vex  him,  of  course, — divert  attention  from  her 
sins, — she  looked  a  very  sprite,  crouching  from  him 
among  her  cushions,  and  almost  as  white  as  her  white 
clothes, — but  that  made  things  no  better.  She  was  en- 
chanting his  eyes  the  whole  time,  which  made  things, 
by  the  same  reckoning,  rather  worse.  He  had  not  seen 
her  in  this  wild  phase  at  all,  since  the  early  days  of  her 
engagement,  when  she  had,  of  course,  been  able  to  escape 
him  and  hide  some  of  it,  though  not  all.  He  suspected 
she  wanted  to  escape  him  now,  and  he  tightened  his  grasp 
unconsciously. 

"  You  are  hurting  me,"  she  said  faintly  at  last.  "  And 
making  me  so  nervous." 

Starting  from  his  selfish  reverie,  he  looked  down,  and 
his  hand  dropped  at  his  side.  There  were  tears  in  her 
eyes,  real  tears,  such  as  he  had  never  seen  there;  for, 
bravely  as  she  had  spoken,  the  first  time  they  met  after 
their  loss,  he  had  not  seen  her  weep.  Why,  Charles  had 
not  asked  himself  then,  nor  what  upheld  her, — since  he 


402  DUKE  JONES 

knew.  He  was  not  so  dense,  where  Violet  was  concerned, 
as  to  fail  to  follow  that.  She  had  blamed  herself  for  his 
disappointment:  and  knowing  it,  he  had  succumbed  to 
that  still  pride  of  hers,  shown  her  his  own  suffering, — 
allowed  her  to  console.  Wordless  and  witless  he  had 
been  throughout  that  memorable  interview,  helpless 
under  her  steady  leading,  all  expression  struck  out  of 
him  while  he  listened  to  her  little  tone:  but  not  because 
he  had  not  felt  it,  been  thrilled  by  it  to  depths  of  his  being 
unstirred  by  life  before.  He  was  not  such  a  pitiful 
trifler,  whatever  the  women  might  think,  as  that. 

He  stood  rigid,  recollecting;  and  the  color  ran  up  his 
face. 

"  You  are  not  angry  about  it,  are  you,  Charles  ?  "  she 
asked,  mistaking  the  attitude.  "  Not  really  ?  I  did  my 
best  to  remedy  it,  patch  it  up,  you  know, — but  it  was  too 
late."  She  sought  still  to  speak  lightly  of  the  thing  before 
him,  but  the  effort  was  growing  beyond  her.  "  I  was  a 
fool,  of  course, — a  young  fool :  I  am  sorry.  Please  don't 
be  really  angry," — her  voice  broke  utterly  at  his  brusque 
movement, — "  no,  no ! — nor  the  reverse !  I  cannot  bear 
it — will  you  not  see  ?  " 

One  hand  was  up,  defending,  in  panic  almost,  against 
her  breast;  the  other  outstretched  to  him,  most  express- 
ive of  her  need.  It  might  have  stood,  that  instinctive 
gesture,  to  represent  the  higher  demand  of  woman  on 
man,  throughout  the  centuries. 

She  was  apologizing,  he  realized,  in  all  sincerity: 
apologizing  to  him,  and  for  the  second  time.  For  the 
second  time  he  had  allowed  her  to  get  in  front  of  him  in 
that  fine  competition,  the  mutual  courtesy  of  intimates, 
pain  in  her  eyes,  and  words  of  penitence  upon  her  lips. 
Now,  as  then,  it  was  not,  for  a  strong  man,  a  tolerable 
position.  He  was  on  his  knees  in  an  instant,  before  she 
had  finished  her  broken  appeal:  shamed,  scared  almost, 
that  he  had  dared  to  frighten  her,  to  scoff  even  for  a 
moment  as  the  vulgar  scoff,  at  the  pledge  she  had  re- 


MAUD  403 

deemed  so  finely,  the  faith  she  had  carried  through  very 
fire  unscathed. 

"  It's  all  right,"  she  gasped  to  reassure  him,  as  he  bent 
his  head  low  to  the  fingers  of  the  little  guarding  hand. 
"  I  never  cry — in  public.  I  knew  you  would — be  kind. 
I  played  too  much,  I  expect.  ...  It  was  rather  a 
fearful  five  and  twenty  minutes  yesterday.  It  hurt  me 
dreadfully  to-night, — his  face.  I  do  like  him,  he  is  so 
good, — a  great  little  man.  One  would  not  choose  to 
hurt  a  man  like  that.  ...  I  thought  it  could  be 
neighbors,  you  know, — if  I  thought  at  all.  I  was  a — 
young  fool  then,  Charles.  I  played  the  dirge  of  all  that, 
for  women,  to-night." 

VI 

They  all  went  down  to  Leatherhead,  Charles  as  well; 
and  Charles  took  Maud  under  his  especial  charge,  and 
was  charming  to  her  as  he  had  rarely  been, — as  charm- 
ing as  he  commonly  was  to  Margery;  and  Marmaduke 
and  Violet  went  on,  some  way  on,  in  front.  What  Jones 
called  his  "  little  place  "  was  extremely  pretty,  and  by 
no  means  little, — rather  large.  There  was  cover  in  it 
for  eavesdropping,  too,  to  any  extent,  but  Violet's  hus- 
band did  not  attempt  to  take  advantage  of  it ;  and  when 
he  and  Maud  finally  did  come  up  with  the  other  pair, 
Jones  was  showing  Mrs.  Shovell  the  myrtle-cutting  he 
had  brought,  like  herself,  from  Cornwall  on  a  certain 
occasion,  and  which,  having  received  from  the  first  the 
right  attentions,  aspects,  and  etceteras,  had  grown  exactly 
three  times  as  big  as  hers  in  the  greenhouse  at  home; 
and  Mrs.  Shovell  was  refusing  absolutely  to  look  at  it, 
with  wide,  reproachful  and  attentive  eyes. 

Jones  was  really  very  glad  the  curate  had  refused  his 
invitation  to  tea  that  afternoon  with  "  some  people  Jones 
knew  from  town,"  because  Shovell,  when  he  was  really 
"  on  his  day,"  was  infinitely  better  company.  Jones  had 
not  seen  him  in  anything  like  such  form  since  the  Cor- 


4o4  DUKE  JONES 

nish  time,  and  he  only  wished  he  had  thought  of  asking 
him  originally,  and  saved  Mrs.  Shovell  the  trouble  of 
suggesting  it.  His  ready  response  to  the  suggestion  would 
have  disarmed  a  very  Othello:  and  Charles  in  any  case 
would  have  played  that  personage  badly.  He  was  far 
better  as  Bassanio,  or  possibly  Bassanio's  boon  com- 
panion; since  nothing,  not  even  the  determined  drops  of 
rain  at  tea-time,  could  allay  his  "  skipping  spirit."  Mar- 
maduke  and  Maud,  laughing  just  sufficiently  at  the 
proper  intervals,  were  simultaneously  surprised  at  him; 
and  Maud's  eyes,  if  not  her  tongue,  made  apologies  to 
their  host  for  her  stepbrother's  futilities,  when  neces- 
sary. Maud's  eyes  met  Mr.  Jones'  very  frequently,  for 
they  found  themselves  constantly  in  agreement  over 
almost  every  point  that  came  up.  She  also  made  the 
tea,  since  she  could  not  possibly  allow  Violet;  and  any 
man  with  a  grain  of  imagination  could  see  her  planted 
there  as  a  permanency,  among  Mr.  Jones'  roses,  making 
it  for  his  guests. 

At  parting,  Maud  hoped  very  much  that  Mr.  Jones 
would  come  over  to  Glasswell  some  time,  and  see  Papa's 
garden  there,  which  some  people  thought  rather  nice; 
and  Mr.  Jones'  concentrated  fervor  in  accepting  the  invi- 
tation was  such  that  Charles'  hopes  leapt  up  again,  in 
spite  of  Violet.  But  alas! — it  soon  emerged  that  Mr. 
Jones  had  merely  seen  the  Rectory  garden,  Glasswell, 
illustrated  in  a  weekly  magazine,  and  wanted  to  observe 
the  tomato-culture  under  glass,  or  something  equally 
unromantic.  As  soon  as  he  discovered  Miss  Gibbs  was 
attached  to  that  garden,  and  those  tomatoes,  he  could 
have  started  the  couple  of  days'  conversation,  as  was 
obvious,  all  over  again.  Maud  said.  Papa  would  be  so 
pleased  to  make  his  acquaintance ;  and  for  once,  in  using 
that  time-honored  and  generally  significant  formula, 
Maud  knew  she  was  speaking  the  strict  truth.  The 
Rector  would  have  taken  such  a  promising  young  acolyte 
to  his  heart  after  five  minutes'  conversation  on  the  com- 


MAUD  405 

mon  theme ;  and  it  was  really  a  thousand  pities  that 
Marmaduke  could  never  become  his  son-in-law,  accord- 
ing to  Violet :  since  a  path  of  roses,  literally,  would  have 
conducted  him  to  his  heart's  desire. 

But  Violet  was  perfectly  right.  Maud  left  the  house 
in  Livingstone  Gardens  exactly  at  the  end  of  the  stip- 
ulated fortnight:  promising  to  tell  Mamma  that  she 
was  fairly  satisfied  with  Violet's  appearance,  and  abso- 
lutely disgusted  with  Charlie's  way  of  treating  her:  and 
hoping  to  see  more  of  Mr.  Jones.  Only  when  Maud 
next  reported  a  long  and  interesting  conversation  with 
Violet's  nice  Mr.  Jones,  in  the  Glasswell  drawing-room, 
on  the  subject  of  helpfully  scientific  story-books  for 
village  boys,  Violet's  nice  Mr.  Jones  was  engaged  to 
Felicia  Addenbroke,  and  Maud  knew  it. 

Then,  and  only  then,  Charles  quenched  the  last  spark 
of  his  hopes  in  life  for  Maud,  and  went  round  the  break- 
fast table,  ostensibly  to  feel  Violet's  hair,  in  order  to  see 
if  a  little  crescent-moon  was  growing  in  front  of  it. 
He  was  afraid,  he  said,  that  she  might  have  caught  it 
from  Maud,  when  the  poor  girl  was  staying  there;  and 
such  a  growth  was  reckoned  dangerous,  in  the  profes- 
sion, for  married  women, — particularly  youngish  ones. 

Then  he  said,  if  Jones  was  determined  to  ruin  the  last 
pages  of  his  blameless  narrative,  and  marry  Lisette 
against  both  of  their  better  judgment,  and  in  the  teeth 
of  the  path  (a  literary  protest,  at  this  point,  disregarded) 
in  the  teeth  of  the  path  of  clerical  respectability  and  life- 
long happiness  Charles  had  pointed  out  to  him,  in  the 
person  of  Maud, — then  Jones'  over-driven  editor  saw 
nothing  for  it  but  to  hint  in  the  last  chapter,  for  the 
private  ear  of  Jones'  readers,  that  he  had  fallen  head- 
over-ears  in  love  with  Lisette,  at  short  notice,  while 
under  the  intoxicating  influences  of  the  great  French 
capital.  In  virtue  of  which  sad  reflection  Jones'  readers 
might  learn  all  sorts  of  things;  or,  if  they  preferred  it, 
nothing  at  all.  Co-editors  might  append,  in  an  appendix, 


4o6  DUKE  JONES 

an  abridged  list  of  the  other  young  fellows,  not  to  men- 
tion old  ones,  whom  Felicia  had  knocked  end-long  in 
the  same  manner,  in  the  course  of  her  singular  career, 
beginning  with  the  Dean  and  Studley.  Sir  Claude  Ash- 
win  might  come  in  a  good  third,  since  Charles  under- 
stood he  intended  to  present  Lisette,  on  the  happy  occa- 
sion, with  a  string  of  pearls  very  nearly  as  costly  as 
those  of  his  daughter's  Lisette  had  failed  to  steal.  And 
Charles  trusted  Violet  was  not  taking  him  too  seriously 
in  these  remarks,  because  if  she  did,  he  should  shake  her. 

Then  he  said, — his  wife  having  long  since  given  him 
the  coffee  he  had  come  round  the  table,  in  the  first 
instance,  to  fetch, — that  if  Violet  wanted  to  go  down  to 
Glasswell,  and  have  a  long  day's  hay-making,  without 
her  wedding-ring,  as  Maud  suggested,  and  sit  on  the 
very  top  of  the  cart,  with  her  hair  over  her  ears,  and 
her  arms  about  her  knees,  quite  alone, — no  man  but  the 
Rector  in  a  straw  hat  near  her,  for  miles, — she  might. 

Only  he  would  awfully  like  to  come  too.  Because  the 
pursuit  of  hay-making,  not  to  mention  the  pursuit  of 
strawberries  in  Mr.  Gibbs'  beds,  appealed  to  him:  and 
girls  when  they  got  together  were  such  geese,  and  Violet 
might  fall  off  the  cart  sky-larking  with  young  Maud 
about  the  place.  Also,  Charles'  mother  lived  down  there. 

We  give  Charles'  half  of  this  conversation,  unfortu- 
nately much  compressed  for  lack  of  space,  because 
Violet's  replies,  though  they  seemed  to  be  a  satisfaction 
to  herself,  were  really  not  worth  offering  to  a  critical 
world,  when  her  husband  got  well  into  his  best  vein  of 
dialogue.  In  fact,  the  thing  should  be  called  monologue, 
with  interruption,  uninvited  and  rigorously  repressed, 
at  intervals. 

Having  polished  off  his  peroration  to  these  utterances, 
Charles  stopped  feeling  yiolet's  hair  for  the  crescent, 
and  flattened  down  the  locks  he  had  deranged,  very 
kindly,  and  went  back  to  his  place  to  drink  his  coffee, 
with  a  sense  of  duty  done.  And  Violet  herself  returned, 


MAUD  407 

rather  wearily,  to  the  study  of  a  letter  from  Honoria 
Addenbroke  on  the  same  subject,  that  is,  the  first  of 
Charles'  subjects,  he,r  sister's  match  with  Mr.  Jones:  a 
letter  which,  for  sheer  unpleasantness  and  lack  of  feel- 
ing, beat  everything  of  which  Violet  had  thought  even 
Honoria  was  capable.  At  the  end  of  the  communica- 
tion, Honoria  was  kind  enough  to  propose  occupying 
"  a  bed  in  a  corner  "  in  Violet's  "  little  house  "  for  the 
days  that  included  the  ceremony;  by  which  she  could 
only  have  meant  Violet's  solitary  cherished  guest-room, 
which  Maud  had  just  quitted,  with  regret. 

"  She  wants  to  avoid  Lisette,  dear,"  explained  Violet 
in  some  perplexity,  when  conveying  these  contents  to  her 
husband.  "  To  have  Lisette  marrying  a  fortune  at  this 
stage  is  too  much  for  Honoria,  naturally.  If  she  stays 
with  Father,  she  and  Lisette  will  fight  like  cats:  and 
that,"  added  Mrs.  Shovell  pensively,  "  will  be  so  bad 
for  the  Billy-goat." 

Lisette,  it  should  be  mentioned,  had  called  her  son 
Godfrey  William,  being  a  dignified  pair  of  names,  sancti- 
fied by  Ingestre  usage  for  centuries ;  but  as  she  addressed 
him  as  a  "  billy-goat "  whenever  his  behavior  called  for 
criticism,  which  was,  by  Lisette's  fine  standards,  very 
frequently,  the  attentive  family  of  Ashwin  had  adopted 
the  term,  and  continued  to  use  it  until  Godfrey  William 
was  of  an  age  to  protest  in  person,  long  after  the  close 
of  this  chronicle. 

"  Probably  she  wants  to  avoid  the  Billy-goat  too," 
added  Violet,  pondering  Honoria's  letter.  "  She  men- 
tions here  she  loathes  children ;  and  I  remember,  a  propos 
of  her  teaching,  she  told  me  so  before." 

"  We  fed  her  too  well,"  was  Charles'  opinion,  "  and 
she  liked  the  feel  of  your  sofa.  It  still  bears  the  mark 
of  the  beast,  and  makes  the  drawing-room  look  filthy. 
She  liked  me  a  little  too,  I  shouldn't  wonder.  .  .  . 
I  won't  have  her  on  the  premises,  Violet,  and  that's  flat." 

He    spoke    in   a   tone, — occurring   about   twice   in   a 


4o8  DUKE  JONES 

twelve-month, — which  conveyed  that  he  meant  what  he 
said;  and  Violet  obeyed  his  direct  command,  as  usual, 
with  relief,  and  refused  Honoria:  risking,  of  course,  in 
so  doing  the  immediate  result,  that  Honoria  told  every- 
body in  reach  that  she  was  a  jealous  little  vixen,  who 
stored  up  grudges  for  a  bit  of  fun. 

The  wedding,  carefully  shunted  out  of  the  season  by 
collusion  of  the  Ingestres  and  Ashwins,  who  met  in  con- 
spicuously friendly  alliance  over  Felicia's  settlement, 
since  John  had  seen  fit  to  express,  before  witnesses,  an 
obligation,  was  of  the  quietest  description:  furtive,  it 
might  have  been  called,  as  everybody  was  eager  to  spare 
Felicia's  feelings  in  the  matter, — feelings  which,  in  fact, 
had  no  existence.  Lisette  was  immensely  pleased,  and 
overwhelmingly  amused,  at  the  whole  affair.  Not  sur- 
prised exactly,  she  explained  to  Violet,  when  they  sat 
together,  with  the  baby  between  them,  in  the  room  that 
had  once  been  Violet's, — because  she  had  always  known 
Duke  was  "that  sort"  from  the  first.  He  had  missed 
far  too  many  good  opportunities,  by  Lisette's  reckon- 
ing, to  be  any  other  "  sort "  than  the  very  limited  "  sort  " 
to  which  he  belonged.  That  it  was  a  good  sort,  Lisette 
was  quite  ready  to  admit  when  Violet  suggested  it,  only 
it  appealed  to  her  innate  sense  of  the  humorous  so  irre- 
sistibly. She  had  told  a  French  fellow  about  him  once, 
and  the  fellow  had  roared  over  her  description,  and  the 
sketch,  rather  a  good  one,  she  had  added  for  his 
enlightenment.  Lisette  only  wondered  that  Duke  had 
stammered  and  stuttered  so  long  over  asking  her;  but 
the  process  of  watching  him,  and  commenting  on  his 
peculiar  proceedings  to  "  Cousin  Claude,"  was  so  exquis- 
itely entertaining,  that  Lisette  would  not  have  shortened 
it,  for  worlds.  Nor  would  Sir  Claude,  for  worlds,  it 
appeared,  when  Violet,  having  heard  all  Lisette's  opin- 
ions, interviewed  him  in  turn:  since  by  this  means  he 
retained  Lisette  a  little  longer  at  his  side,  and  before 
his  eyes,  in  Eveleen's  absence,  at  the  dinner-table. 


MAUD  409 

"  Will  anything  come  of  it,  Father?"  Violet  inquired, 
after  they  had  discussed  at  length  all  the  details  of  the 
ceremonial  occasion  on  which  she,  by  request,  was  to 
act  for  him  as  hostess.  "  I  try  to  be  amused  and  de- 
lighted: but  I  can't  feel  that  it  is  real." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Sir  Claude,  "  but  I  will  do  my  best  to 
make  it  so.  The  man,  as  far  as  I  can  follow  him,  is 
almost  first-rate.  He  is  an  exceptional  man.  I  would 
hardly  have  trusted  her  to  another,  but  I  do  to  him." 

"  It's  safer,  in  a  way,  do  you  think,  that "  she 

hesitated. 

"  That  he  should  not  be  '  mad  on  her '  ?  That's  her 
own  phrase  for  it — yes.  She  really  has  been  sated  with 
that,  she  does  not  value  it.  I  believe  she  fears  it  a 
little.  I  tried  to  discover  one  evening,  having  the  chance, 
if  she  would  go  back  to  M.  Edmond,  granted  we  found 
him.  For  a  time  I  thought  that  might  be  the  best  solu- 
tion: but  she  does  not  want  to,  now.  She  is  very  Eng- 
lish, and  clings  to  English  things.  I  could  tell  that  by 
her  eyes,  though  her  lips  said  that  Edmond  was  decent 
to  her,  and  she  didn't  mind  if  she  did." 

"  She  would  do  anything  you  told  her,"  said  Violet 
thoughtfully,  not  surprised.  Her  father  saw  Lisette's 
value,  her  intrinsic  value,  as  she  did;  and  had  taken  the 
trouble  to  study  her  closely,  her  method  of  looking  on 
life,  and  some,  at  least,  of  the  motives  that  guided  her. 
They  were  not  Eveleen's  motives,  purely  animal.  She 
had  a  variety  of  the  artist's  brain,  and  an  exquisite  sen- 
sitiveness to  passing  impression  that  Eveleen  might  well 
have  envied.  She  was  a  perfect  mother,  instinctively: 
not  conscientiously  at  all.  She  would  have  died  will- 
ingly, instantly,  at  any  moment,  for  her  child;  indeed, 
Claude  had  an  idea  that  she  did  not  value  her  own  life 
highly,  though  she  shrank  from  pain.  Something, — 
call  it  dignity, — by  which  she  lived,  the  thing  that  served 
her  for  moral  support,  had  been  broken  utterly,  in  the 
catastrophe.  Her  personal  pride  was  in  ruins, — 
the  delicacy  that  was  in  her,  though  she  had  never  learnt 


4io  DUKE  JONES 

the  alphabet  of  its  expression.  It  was  only  the  child, 
in  life,  that  remained.  Her  reckless  courage  was  still 
intact;  she  was  ready  to  live,  and  face  a  new  life, 
strange  as  that  life  was  bound  to  be  to  all  her  instincts, 
for  her  child's  sake.  But  she  was,  even  in  Dr.  Ashwin's 
loving  care,  even  with  Marmaduke  Jones'  anxious  atten- 
tions, off  her  true  course,  astray  from  her  landmarks. 
She  had  been  dragged  from  her  own  happy,  pleasant 
little  path  in  life,  and  seemed  seeking  for  it  continually. 
Claude  had  encouraged  her  to  paint,  and  she  would  paint 
cleverly  for  a  time ;  then  she  bit  her  lip,  her  eyes  diverted 
to  the  child,  and  she  went  back  to  it :  as  though  of  that 
at  least,  in  the  wreck  of  her  rainbow  world,  she  could 
be  sure. 

"  I  think,"  said  Claude,  "  the  man  will  share  his  name 
and  fortune  with  her  merely,  and  keep  her  a  permanent 
guest  in  his  house.  He  is  not  skilled  in  expression,  as 
you  know,  but  one  sees  his  meaning  later,  generally: 
and  it  is  my  belief,  Violet,  that  he  has  told  me  that. 
And  if  he  purposes  that,  he  will  do  it,  beyond  any  ques- 
tion at  all.  It  seems  to  me  an  unheard-of  thing,"  he 
added  thoughtfully,  "  and  it  upsets  me  into  laughter 
occasionally.  But  I  daresay  it  has  its  equal  in  history. 
I  should  not  wonder  the  least." 

Lisette's  story  can,  and  should,  be  very  simply  fin- 
ished. 

She  married  Jones,  and  made  him  an  exquisite  little 
wife,  tractable  and  affectionate,  for  just  two  years.  Then 
she  died, — no  one  knew  why,  a  determined  drifting  upon 
extinction,  her  apparent  lack  of  any  definite  disease  much 
embarrassing  her  professional  attendants.  Claude  Ash- 
win,  who  did  not  attend  her,  since  she  lived  so  far,  but 
who  watched  her  at  intervals,  said  she  died  of  her  soul ; 
but  when  a  great  doctor  takes  to  talking  like  that  it  is 
evident  he  cannot  expect  the  attention  of  serious  people. 

The  fact,  at  least,  was  unquestionable ;  she  was  found 


MAUD  411 

one  morning  lifeless :  and  they  called  it  heart  failure,  and 
made  the  best  of  such  symptoms  as  they  could  exag- 
gerate, or  invent.  It  was  doubtless  in  a  fashion  a  failure 
of  heart,  the  expression  would  do.  Like  the  pretty  tale 
of  Allingham's,  they  thought  that  she  was  fast  asleep, 
but  she  was  dead — of  sorrow.  For  it  looked  as  though 
Lisette  had  been  able,  even  in  the  act  of  "  realizing 
herself,"  "  working  out  her  personality,"  or  whatever 
other  scraps  of  modern  philosophy  Honoria  misused 
and  misquoted,  to  suffer.  She  had  suffered  in  realizing, 
perhaps,  since  a  few  characters  undoubtedly  exist, 
nature's  flowers  in  the  rich  intellectual  fields  of  human- 
ity, who  do  better  not  to  realize.  Howsoever  it  may  be, 
Goldsmith,  a  man  of  genius  and  of  heart,  though  sadly 
out  of  Honoria's  period,  came  nearer  to  the  final  truth 
of  Lisette  than  Honoria  and  her  up-to-date  authorities. 
She  died  for  want  of  that  little  personal  genius  of  hers, 
that  had  been  so  ruthlessly  snatched  away. 

Hers  was,  beyond  any  doubt,  the  second  life  sacrificed 
by  Eveleen  Ashwin's  brutal  indifference  to  all  well-being 
but  her  own ;  and  since  Lady  Ashwin  felt  no  overpower- 
ing remorse  or  grief  on  the  occasion,  her  husband  and 
daughter,  as  ever,  shared  the  penalty.  Sir  Claude  and 
Violet  joined  themselves  to  Jones  in  his  genuine  sorrow, 
and  he  had  to  thank  them  for  innumerable  marks  of 
sympathy,  gratitude,  and  esteem;  but  he  would  accept 
no  material  assistance,  from  one  or  the  other,  in  the 
matter  of  the  child,  which  was  his  legacy  and  burden 
in  life.  Jones  brought  Godfrey  up  to  be  a  son  of  the 
state,  according  to  his  ideas,  and  made  "  a  very  good 
thing  of  it "  in  his  own  phrase,  though  he  was  much  too 
modest  to  use  it. 

John  Ingestre  was  interested  in  Godfrey  too,  at  inter- 
vals; but  John  Ingestre  and  Jones  could  never  really 
meet  on  common  ground:  and  their  cautious  and  cour- 
teous correspondence  would  no  doubt  have  made  an 
amusing  appendix  to  this  history  had  anyone  been  able 


4i2.  DUKE  JONES 

to  get  the  letters.  But  it  would  not  have  carried  the 
sympathetic  much  further,  though  it  might  have  enter- 
tained the  curious:  for  Jones  would  never  betray  his 
life's  convictions  to  such  as  John.  The  only  person 
to  whom  he  regularly  confided  his  educational  perplex- 
ities was  Violet  Shovell:  and  her  letters  in  return  were 
certainly  preserved,  long  after  her  cousin  John's  lordly 
scrawls  had  gone  the  way  of  all  paper  to  the  dust-heap. 
By  this  means,  at  least,  Jones  kept  a  link  with  Violet, 
for  life:  and  he  kept  the  little  Ledger  miniature  too,  a 
worthy  record  of  a  beauty  that  remained,  to  those  who 
had  seen  it,  phenomenal,  a  thing  apart:  and  stored  it 
with  Lisette's  real  pearls, — her  own,  not  Violet's,  worn 
on  her  wedding-day. 

Eveleen  did  not  die:  she  lived,  with  immense  per- 
sistence and  vitality,  for  years ;  but  she  never  recovered 
her  perfect  balance,  mental  or  physical,  after  the  short 
period  of  genuine  panic  through  which,  owing  to  every- 
body's fault  but  her  own,  it  had  been  her  hard  lot  to 
pass.  Words  could  not  express, — certainly  Eveleen's 
words  could  not, — after  short  wandering,  to  watering- 
places  first,  and  then,  for  her  dignity's  sake,  to  relatives, 
her  relief  at  returning  to  her  own  house,  the  rooms  she 
knew,  the  chairs  she  liked,  and  the  servants  who  looked 
at  her,  for  all  their  temporary  show  of  independent 
spirit  on  the  evening  of  her  nightmare,  with  blank  faces 
that  implied  a  master's  command  in  the  background, 
and  could  be  taken  for  respect,  as  required. 

Claude's  sole  revenge  on  her,  for  the  suffering  she 
had  caused,  was  to  let  her  know  the  fact,  by  word  of 
mouth  since  she  would  not  read  his  letters,  that  but 
for  Violet's  definite  leading,  he  would  never  have  re- 
ceived her.  But  it  was  quite  useless.  Lady  Ashwin 
seemed  to  take  her  daughter's  clemency  for  granted, 
and  found  Claude's  severity,  generally  speaking,  show- 
ing grosteque  unreason  and  deplorable  lack  of  taste. 


MAUD  413 

She  had  bought  some  extremely  beautiful  dresses  in 
Paris,  which  she  kindly  wore  once  or  twice  to  show  him : 
since  she  always  liked  to  be  sure  of  his  opinion,  whether 
he  expressed  it  or  not,  before  she  broke  in  her  glory 
on  the  world.  Even  if  he  was  cross-grained  and  un- 
pleasant, his  opinion  could  easily  be  seen  by  the  vague 
expression  in  his  eyes,  at  moments  when,  in  the  heat  of 
discussion  on  other  things,  she  caught  him  off  his  guard. 
Thus  Eveleen  discovered  that  he  flatly  disliked  the  colors 
in  one  of  her  costumes;  and  since,  on  second  thoughts, 
she  inclined  that  way  herself,  though  her  maid  admired 
it  intensely,  she  sent  it  back. 

It  was  also  a  comfort,  on  returning  to  her  own,  to  be 
met  by  Claude  at  the  station,  and  to  tell  him,  with  the 
greatest  frankness,  exactly  in  what  manner,  and  for  how 
long,  she  had  felt  uncomfortable.  She  could  remember 
all  the  details,  even  yet,  very  well,  for  she  had  hardly 
known  physical  discomfort  before,  in  her  life:  except 
during  the  disgusting  period  when  Violet  came  into  a 
world  where  nobody  wanted  her:  that  is  to  say,  where 
her  mother  did  not. 

Claude  did  not  appear  sympathetic  on  the  subject  of 
this  lengthy  torture  of  hers,  but  he  suggested  things  to 
do  which  proved  efficacious,  and  that,  after  all,  is  the 
principal  thing.  Lady  Ashwin's  foreign  doctors,  had 
been  exquisitely  courteous,  but,  judged  by  results,  had 
proved  hardly  worth  the  trouble  of  talking  to,  apart 
from  all  question  of  the  fee.  Claude  also  proposed  out- 
door air  and  physical  exertion:  so  Eveleen,  after  pout- 
ing a  little  over  the  prescription,  returned  to  horse 
exercise,  which  she  had  enjoyed  in  her  youth;  and 
which  she  how  found  more  agreeable  and  refreshing, — 
and  infinitely  more  becoming, — than  she  had  recollected. 

In  addition  to  this,  every  now  and  then,  when  she 
drifted  in  dialogue  onto  certain  subjects,  and  found  it 
hard,  a  tiring  effort,  to  get  off  them  again,  Claude's 
clear,  sharp  speech  was  of  assistance.  It  was  only  a 


4i4  DUKE  JONES 

pity  that,  when  she  was  out  in  the  world  and  the  same 
curious  thing  occurred,  Claude  not  being  there  to  help 
her,  people  found  her  a  bore,  and  Eveleen  did  not  like 
it.  She  had  never  been  a  bore,  though  she  had  never 
tried  to  be  the  kind  of  chatterer  who  produces  a  crackle 
of  laughter  continually.  Her  conversation  had  been 
sought  for  itself,  not  only  for  the  infinite  privilege,  to 
the  other  party,  of  sitting  near  her.  Consequently,  she 
did  not  care  for  people  to  look  at  her  in  a  certain  man- 
ner. So  she  shrank  slowly,  very  slowly,  back  from  the 
society  where  she  had  reigned  of  old,  to  her  own  hearth ; 
and  talked  to  Claude,  who  was  never  bored  by  any- 
thing: only  inattentive  at  times,  owing  to  his  habit  of 
fussing  about  a  multitude  of  stupid  people  for  whom 
Eveleen  did  not  care,  and  whose  miseries  and  disappoint- 
ments in  life  could  be  nothing,  as  compared  with  her 
own. 

She  saw  Violet  now  and  then,  generally  in  society: 
and  looked  on  at  her  success  with  a  curious  combina- 
tion of  interest  and  jealousy.  Violet  did  not  really,  ac- 
cording to  Eveleen,  know  the  way  to  do  it,  though  she 
had  good  ideas,  at  times.  She  dressed  perfectly, — Eve- 
leen had  always  admitted  that, — and  spent  little  on  it, 
which  her  mother  approved  likewise ;  and  she  knew  how 
to  make  the  best  of  herself,  pretty  well,  though,  when 
she  was  chattering  her  hardest,  with  several  people  at 
once,  she  flung  herself  about  too  much,  and  made  faces. 
Also  she  made  too  much  noise — that  is,  produced  too 
much  around  her.  She  did  not  make  much  noise  herself, 
and  always  greeted  her  mother  without  fussing,  kindly. 
People  seemed  to  want  her,  which  was  something,  and 
there  was  that  little  stir  at  her  entrance,  and  at  her  de- 
parture, that  Eveleen  liked  to  see.  That  was  Ingestre, 
that  stirring  power,  the  thing  that  brought  lounging  men 
to  their  feet,  and  made  cold  women  put  up  their  glasses. 
Eveleen  herself  could  still  do  that :  and  looked  tranquilly 
forward  to  doing  it,  all  her  life. 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  415 

III 
EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE 


"  ENFIN,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre  quietly,  interrupting  a  par- 
ticularly flourishing  flirtation  with  one  of  his  younger 
relations,  as  once  more  the  party  round  the  baronial  fire- 
place in  the  entrance-hall  was  disturbed  by  a  new  arrival. 
"  Madame  sait  se  faire  attendre." 

He  had  risen  with  his  usual  difficulty,  having  risen  that 
evening  for  no  other  guest,  and  passing  an  arm  about  the 
latest  comer,  furs  and  all,  greeted  her  as  an  elderly  kins- 
man may. 

"  Nobody  with  you  ?  "  he  inquired  sarcastically. 

"  He  can't,  till  Christmas  Eve,"  explained  Violet. 
"  He's  buried  under  the  Christmas  books.  He's  terribly 
sorry, — he  just  sent  me  on  to  say." 

"  We  regret  it,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre,  glancing  once  about 
him,  "  by  the  form." 

"  Cousin  John,  if  you  begin  like  that  before  I  have  even 
got  my  hat  off " 

"  Take  off  her  hat,  Agatha,"  said  her  host,  "  and  fling 
it  over  the  wind-mills,  or  anywhere  handy ;  and  let's  have 
a  truce  to  prudery,  from  the  start.  We  don't  go  in  for 
it,  Honoria  there  will  tell  you.  Allow  me  to  introduce 
such  as  are  necessary,  Violet.  It  does  not  seem  to  be 
many.  Turn  round." 

"Who  is  she?"  inquired  one  of  the  minority,  needing 
an  introduction,  to  one  of  the  majority  at  her  side. 

"  Mrs.  Shovell.  Don't  you  know  her?  Jolly  fun,"  said 
the  member  of  the  majority,  tilting  his  chair. 

"  I've  heard  of  her.  That  little  thing?  I  thought  she 
was  a  beauty.  Is  she  related  to  the  Ingestres,  then  ?  " 

"  Own  daughter  to  the  incredible  Eveleen.  Didn't  you 
know?" 


416  DUKE  JONES 

"  Good  gracious  me ! "  The  minority  stared  again. 
"  Well,  she  doesn't  look  it.  Why  isn't  Lady  Ashwin  here  ?  " 

"  Oh — not  been  well  lately,  they  say.  Rather  out  of 
things,"  said  the  majority,  with  a  face  the  blankness  of 
which  was  bound  to  mean  something.  He  only  trusted  he 
was  not  going  to  be  asked  for  details  of  the  story,  because 
he  barely  knew  them:  and,  besides,  such  vaporous  trag- 
edies were  a  bore.  One  cannot  treat  them  lightly,  in 
the  interests  of  "  form  "  ;  and  for  the  credit  of  the  Christ- 
mas season,  one  should  try  to  avoid  being  serious. 

"  Her  husband's  coming  on  Christmas  Day,"  he  said, 
to  move  the  subject.  "  Mrs.  Shovell  was  saying  so  to  Mrs. 
Ingestre  just  now.  Not  her  own  husband,  you  know,  but 
Eveleen's.  That  is,  they're  both  coming,  Shovell  too,  if  I 
caught  her  drift  correctly.  Beastly  row  those  fellows 
make :  you  can't  hear  a  thing." 

The  majority,  like  many  another  before  him,  regretted 
the  soft  timbre  of  Mrs.  Shovell's  voice,  which  was  easily 
drowned  in  company.  And  loud-voiced  company  was 
pressing  upon  her  rather ;  for  there  was  a  dance  that  even- 
ing in  three  hours'  time,  and  they  hoped  Mrs.  Shovell  had 
given  up  pretending  not  to  dance,  since  half  the  world 
knew  she  did. 

"  I  believe  I  dance,"  said  Violet,  "  I  really  can't  remem- 
ber. I  don't  mind  trying,  with  somebody  kind." 

Everybody  was  kind,  eagerly.  It  was  quite  encouraging 
to  set  eyes  on  such  a  kind-hearted  community  as  Mr. 
Ingestre  had  collected  about  his  hearth  that  evening.  So 
Mrs.  Shovell  was  kind  too,  by  degrees,  as  she  took  off  her 
gloves;  very  leisurely  degrees,  since  she  was  cold,  and 
wanted  her  tea,  and  they  were  all  interrupting  her  conver- 
sation with  her  hostess,  most  terribly. 

She  looked  well  again,  Agatha  was  glad  to  see,  though 
still  ethereal  a  trifle.  Her  energy,  socially  speaking,  was 
tremendous,  as  Mrs.  Ingestre  gathered  from  reports  re- 
ceived, for  she  went  out  less  herself  in  these  days.  Violet 
was  a  small  star  as  yet,  but  a  very  bright  one,  and  an 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  417 

object  of  persistent  curiosity  to  the  society  astronomers ; 
for  she  shone  not  only  by  reason  of  reflected  light,  as  the 
foregoing  dialogue  may  demonstrate;  though,  to  such  as 
knew  the  history,  Eveleen's  dark  luster  made  a  very  tell- 
ing background  to  her  own  delicate  little  beam. 

"  How  frightfully  nice  it  is,"  said  Violet  to  her  cousin 
Agatha  in  confidence,  patting  the  original  lap-dog,  which 
seemed  after  all  to  have  survived  Charles'  cracknels,  and 
even  fattened  upon  the  food.  "  It  looks  as  inviting  as 
possible  to-night,  with  those  green  leaves  round  the 
frames.  I  can't  think  why  I  was  so  frightened  of  it  all, 
that  time, — three  years  ago." 

"  That  was  it,  was  it  ?  "  said  Agatha.  "  I  have  often 
tried  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  that  incident,  and  discover 
from  the  servants  what  really  went  wrong.  Markham 
said  the  young  lady  and  gentleman  talked  so  nicely  at  din- 
ner,— particularly  the  young  lady, — that  he  was  sure  it 
was  all  right,  really :  nothing  seriously  amiss." 

"  Cousin  Agatha !  "  The  girl  blushed,  laying  her  cup 
down  in  her  lap.  "  You  don't  mean  Markham  said  it, 
really? — Oh,  I'm  sorry,  I'm  dense:  it's  a  sense  of  guilt. 
I  have  never  got  over  a  guilty  feeling  in  the  matter. 
It  was  really  so  ungrateful, — must  have  looked  so, — 
that  sauve-qui-peut.  But  it  was  one, — we  were  terrified." 

"  The  honeymoon  is  an  abuse  that  wants  attending  to," 
said  Agatha,  making  tea  for  ten  people  at  once  while  she 
spoke.  "  Mine  was  a  nightmare." 

She  added  this  last  information  very  low  indeed,  amid 
the  clash  of  cups.  Since  Agatha  had  been  considered  one 
of  the  luckiest  women  of  her  generation,  the  thing  almost 
equaled  a  confession.  But  then,  people  confessed  unaware 
in  Mrs.  Shovell's  company,  very  frequently.  It  was  partly 
because  she  gave  herself  away,  by  her  own  little  blushes, 
even  in  a  dialogue  which  her  tongue  managed  quite 
cleverly.  This  habit  of  impetuous  self -betrayal  in  the 
intervals  of  elegant  discourse  is  encouraging  to  the  oppo- 
site party  to  be  sincere  as  well. 


4i8  DUKE  JONES 

"  I  wish,"  said  Agatha,  some  time  later,  when  the  claims 
of  new  guests  arriving  broke  in  upon  her  peace  again,  "  I 
had  any  hope  of  seeing  much  of  you ;  but  this  may  very 
well  be  our  first  and  last  conversation.  You  must  believe 
I  should  be  glad  to,  if  I  could." 

Mrs.  Ingestre  had  no  daughter,  and  her  only  daughter- 
in-law  disliked  her.  A  "companion,"  suavely  proposed 
by  John  for  her  relief  whenever  she  broke  down,  was  a 
confession  of  incompetence  revolting  to  her  independent 
nature.  Honoria  Addenbroke,  whom  she  asked,  from 
pure  kindness,  regularly  every  hunting-season,  might 
easily  have  acted  a  daughter's  part,  since  she  knew  the 
house  and  its  habitues.  But  Honoria  could  not  be  both- 
ered with  house-keeping  flummeries,  so  Agatha  under- 
stood; and,  besides,  she  was  always  offending  people. 
Thus  Mrs.  Ingestre,  who  was  ageing  rapidly  in  body  for 
all  her  vigorous  spirit,  was  left  to  deal  with  the  yearly 
invasion,  practically  alone. 

Mrs.  Shovell,  turning  to  the  male  majority  perforce 
again,  took  a  note  by  the  way  of  these  really  flagrant  facts, 
which  simply  jumped  at  one  in  the  first  half-hour  of 
arrival  in  Agatha's  hospitable  hall.  The  poor  woman  had 
more  than  she  could  do,  even  getting  the  tea  poured  and 
distributed :  she  did  not, — nobody  does  nowadays, — order 
the  young  men  about  sufficiently :  and  it  was  sheer  sweet- 
ness on  her  part  not  to  have  the  servants  in,  and  so  dis- 
turb the  agreeable  sense  of  intimacy,  which  all  enjoyed, 
— except  Agatha, — in  this  gathering  of  old  friends. 

The  result  of  the  said  note  on  Violet's  mental  tablet  was 
that  she  not  only  had  several  more  conversations  with 
Agatha  during  that  busy  week,  but  the  business  of  the 
week  was  greatly  lightened  for  the  hostess  by  her  ready 
hands  and  tongue.  It  is  rare  for  a  popular  young  woman 
in  a  house-party,  the  especially  distinguished  favorite  of 
its  head,  to  put  herself  definitely  on  the  side  of  its  over- 
worked mistress  from  the  start.  It  is  even  a  little  delicate 
and  difficult  to  accomplish,  when  the  lord  and  master  of 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  419 

both  house  and  housekeeper  chooses  to  show  himself 
jealous  of  the  young  woman's  society :  but  it  can  be  done. 
Mrs.  Shovell  proved  it  could  be  done:  with  the  greater 
ease  that  she  was  already  on  friendly  terms  with  most  of 
Agatha's  servants,  whose  hearts  she  had  won  by  her  shy 
and  gentle  bearing  during  the  first  week  of  her  married 
life.  The  butler  and  the  chauffeur  loved  her  particularly : 
and  she  was  surprised  in  deep  conference  with  the  latter 
gentleman  by  Mr.  Ingestre,  the  first  morning  of  her  visit, 
in  the  drive. 

"  Thinking  of  running  off  again  ?  "  said  John.  "  I  won't 
have  it."  And  he  took  her  severely  into  custody,  while  the 
chauffeur  hid  his  blushes  in  the  car. 

Honoria,  looking  on  at  Violet's  proceedings,  in  a  supe- 
rior and  sneering  manner,  took  notes  of  all  her  flirtations, 
— or  as  many  as  she  could  by  any  means  see  or  overhear, 
— in  case  Charles  wanted  to  know.  Unless  he  displayed 
curiosity,  Honoria  did  not  intend  to  volunteer  the  infor- 
mation. They  would  undoubtedly  have  other  affairs  to 
discuss,  when  they  met,  more  amusing ;  and  since  anyone 
could  detect  on  sight  the  sort  of  girl  she  was,  now  Ho- 
noria had  her  in  the  open,  the  matter  was  of  small  mo- 
ment. 

Honoria  had  suddenly  become  engaged  again,  not  to 
the  original  party,  but  another;  so  she  had  a  splendid 
position  from  which  to  discourse  to  the  world  concerning 
the  "  fun  "  she  had  enjoyed  in  days  gone  by,  with  the 
"  Shovell  boy,"  and  others  of  his  kind.  She  was  enjoying 
her  position  to  the  full,  this  pleasant  Christmas  season: 
and  could  afford  to  be  less  disagreeable  than  usual,  even 
talking  once  or  twice,  with  chaffing  condescension,  of  her 
sister,  Mrs.  Jones. 

John  Ingestre  told  Violet,  d  propos  of  Honoria's  be- 
trothal, that  he  simply  could  not  make  out  how  the  girl 
did  it,  and  he  wished  Violet  would  find  out  for  him,  if 
she  could  put  up  with  so  much  of  Honoria's  society.  The 
man  was  not  forthcoming,  said  John, — possibly  unpre- 


420  DUKE  JONES 

sentable, — but  there  was  no  doubt  he  was  there.  He 
owned  horses,  too,  because  Honoria  rode  them.  John 
thought  a  gentleman-farmer,  with  a  broad  Somersetshire 
accent:  and  the  horses,  cart-horses,  very  likely. 

"  It  would  take  a  cart-horse  to  carry  her,"  said  John 
reflectively:  having  that  moment  mounted  Violet  on  the 
best  and  quietest  of  his. 

He  chose  the  quietest,  because  he  was  inclined  to  be 
over-careful  of  her, — what  in  a  slightly  older  gentleman 
would  have  been  called  fussy.  Comparing  her  constantly, 
involuntarily,  as  he  did,  with  her  mother,  and  the  other 
splendid  women  of  his  house,  he  could  not  believe  she  was 
not  as  fragile  as  she  looked.  If  Violet  had  tried  to  be 
like  her  mother,  John  would  not  have  admired  her:  he 
would  have  regretfully  retired;  but  with  feminine  cun- 
ning, she  had  adopted  a  type  in  almost  perfect  contrast: 
"  deuced  clever,"  in  John's  opinion,  since  it  enabled  him 
both  to  admire  her  extremely,  and  to  pet  her  to  his  heart's 
content. 

"  Don't  you  do  anything  reckless,  madam,"  he  said 
warningly,  from  the  steps.  "  I've  heard  what  you're  like  on 
the  downs.  Dering, — Mannering, — Johnny, — you  young 
fellows  look  out." 

The  last  person  he  addressed  was  his  own  son,  who 
came  up  in  a  cousinly  and  unassuming  fashion  on  Mrs. 
ShovelFs  other  side ;  most  attentive  to  paternal  command, 
as  was  evident,  and  anxious  to  oblige  him,  before  the 
other  fellows  alluded  to  got  in.  The  other  fellows  had 
t6  get  up  first,  before  they  could  get  in,  and  Johnny,  for- 
tunately, had  mounfed  down  at  the  stable.  So  he  and 
Mrs.  Shovell  were  well  ahead,  half-way  to  the  western 
gates,  before  young  Dering,  and  Mannering  the  secretary, 
and  Johnny's  wife,  and  so  on,  trotted  after.  "  So  on  " 
was  Miss  Addenbroke,  far  and  away  the  best  rider  of 
the  party,  men  included,  but  out  of  her  element  in  what 
she  contemptuously  called  an  "amble."  She  was  des- 
perately bored,  that  day  on  the  downs,  entirely  owing  to 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  421 

Violet;  so  she  saved  that  grievance  up  for  Charles,  as 
well. 

Charles  came  down  late  on  the  Friday  night,  right  into 
the  middle  of  the  Christmas  dance.  He  could,  with  an 
effort,  have  caught  a  train  which  would  have  landed  him 
just  in  time  for  it;  but  Charles  seldom  found  it  worth 
while  in  life  to  make  such  efforts,  and  took  things  easily, 
as  they  came.  Thus,  having  dressed  at  his  leisure,  ex- 
amined the  comfortable  quarters  destined  to  him  in  detail, 
and  chaffed  such  servants  as  recognized  him  on  his  way 
downstairs,  he  appeared  on  the  festive  scene  in  the  hall 
about  half-past  ten  o'clock ;  and,  since  late  comers  cannot 
choose,  he  took  on  Honoria,  or  any  other  girl  who  had 
room  on  her  card,  very  agreeably. 

Honoria  had  plenty  of  room, — she  danced  less  well  than 
she  rode, — but  Charles  considered,  even  for  old  sake's 
sake,  two  was  enough.  She  seemed  in  a  pleasant  frame 
of  mind,  which  was  something,  and,  by  Charles'  reckon- 
ing, she  paid  her  way.  For,  sitting  out  in  private  corners 
which  he  discovered  for  her,  she  told  him  all  the  best 
anecdotes  of  that  house-party,  one  by  one,  and  brought 
him  up  to  date  with  her  own  business  and  everybody 
else's,  so  that  he  could  start  fair  at  breakfast-time  on 
Christmas  morning.  This  was  really  kind  of  her,  and 
Charles  appreciated  it.  He  was  vague,  but  courteous,  in 
response :  and  amusing  now  and  then,  apparently  by  mis- 
take. He  was  really  rather  tired  with  a  hard  week's 
work,  and  inclined  to  let  others  do  the  entertaining. 

Several  of  the  young  men  Honoria  dealt  with  so  faith- 
fully were  his  personal  friends,  but  he  had  not  the  heart 
to  tell  her  so ;  nor  did  he  so  much  as  blink  when  Violet's 
name  came  up  in  close  conjunction  with  some  of  theirs. 
That  part  of  Honoria's  information  interested  him  espe- 
cially ;  for,  exchanging  the  jests  of  the  season  with  Johnny 
and  others  in  passing,  he  had  learnt  among  other  con- 
fidences, that,  do  what  they  would,  they  could  not  get  Mrs. 
Shovell  away  from  the  elder  John.  He  was,  it  appeared 


422  DUKE  JONES 

by  the  young  men's  discourse,  always  pouncing  upon  her 
in  better  company,  and  carrying  her  off  to  bore  her  about 
books  and  such  rot  behind  the  scenes ;  which  was  sicken- 
ing luck  on  Mrs.  Shovell,  in  the  first  place;  and  in  the 
second  place,  sickening  luck  on  Johnny  and  company, 
who  growled  to  Charles. 

Thus  Charles  sat  comparing  notes,  and  looking  engag- 
ing, at  Miss  Addenbroke's  side:  rather  obscured  by  her 
magnificence,  but  bearing  it  well.  He  helped  her  along 
by  a  word  when  she  seemed  to  be  running  down,  and 
looked  for  Violet,  surreptitiously,  meanwhile.  He  heard 
of  her  constantly,  on  all  sides,  like  a  fairy-tale,  but  he 
could  not  discover  her  in  the  life.  Since  everybody  else 
seemed  to  have  met  her,  and  assured  him  she  was  danc- 
ing, all  the  time,  this  was  really  mysterious :  but  he  laid 
it  to  her  elfin  nature.  When  she  wanted  to  hide  from 
him,  she  could,  and  Charles  supposed  she  wanted  to.  He 
would  take  it  out  of  her,  naturally,  later  on;  but  in  the 
meantime  he  was  most  suavely,  seasonably,  and  sense- 
lessly agreeable  to  other  girls. 

"  There's  your  wife,"  said  the  very  girl  he  was  talking 
to  once,  in  the  small  ivy-embowered  balcony  above  the 
hall. 

"  Where  ?  "  said  Charles,  with  interest,  leaning  his  arms 
upon  the  balustrade,  and  looking  down  upon  the  crowd. 

It  was  a  charming  crowd  to  look  at, — wreaths  of  del- 
icate color  beneath  the  burnished  foliage,  and  it  did  his 
eyes  good :  for  Charles  loved  all  festivity,  and  he  had  been 
extraordinarily  hard-working  and  home-keeping,  of  ne- 
cessity, of  late.  It  happened  that  one  of  the  moments  had 
come,  at  his  office,  to  make  a  stride,  and  he  was  making 
it :  partly  to  please  Violet,  who  did  not  know  at  present, 
and  partly  to  show  a  scoffing  world  that  he  could  con- 
centrate, when  he  liked.  Now  he  intended  to  relax  in 
proportion ;  and  it  struck  him  the  place  he  was  in  promised 
well  for  the  purpose,  though  he  would  not  commit  him- 
self to  an  opinion  at  present.  Charles'  fashion  of  "  slack- 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  423 

ing  "  was  his  own,  an  art  perfected  by  long  study ;  and 
he  was  very  particular  about  its  materials,  choosing  and 
discarding  for  some  time  before  he  found  the  right  ones, 
for  his  spirit's  need. 

"  She  was  there,"  said  the  girl  beside  him,  puzzled.  "  I 
saw  the  thing  in  her  hair." 

"Not  a  little  crescent  thing?"  said  Charles  anxiously. 
"In  front?" 

"  No, — at  the  side.  I  can't  remember  what  shape." 
The  girl  was  still  searching  vainly  among  the  drifting 
figures  below.  "  It  must  be  because  she's  so  small,"  she 
said,  giving  it  up. 

"  She's  not  really  small,"  said  Charles.  "  She's  as  tall 
as  you  are, — perhaps  a  little  less." 

"  So  light,  then, — what  is  it  ?  You  never  know  where 
she's  going  to  be  next.  You  ought  to  be  able  to  find  her." 
She  looked  at  her  companion  quizzically.  "  You  ought 
at  least  to  know  her  by  sight." 

"  Oh,  I  do,  I  think,"  said  Charles.  "  I  mean,  I  should 
know  her  when  I  saw  her.  Fact  is,  I've  not  really  given 

my  mind  to  it  at  present,  Miss "  Her  name  escaped 

him.  "  I  shall  see  her  after  midnight,  I  expect." 

"  Mr.  Shovell !  That  sounds  like  a  story."  This  was 
evidently  a  nice  girl.  Honoria  had  introduced  her,  so 
Charles  had  expected  nothing  of  her,  and  it  was  a  relief 
to  find  her  so  conversable.  She  was  a  complete  stranger 
to  him,  and  also,  as  it  seemed,  to  most  of  the  house-party ; 
so  Honoria,  ponderously  benevolent,  had  taken  her  in 
charge  for  the  evening. 

"  You  won't  get  hold  of  her  after  midnight,"  she 
warned  Charles.  "  She'll  be  engaged  deeper  than  ever 
then." 

"  I  don't  say  I  shall  get  hold  of  her,"  he  explained. 
"I  don't  say  I  want  to.  I  shall  catch  sight  of  her,  that's 
all." 

"  She's  an  absolutely  exquisite  dancer,"  observed  the 
girl.  "  They  all  say  that." 


424  DUKE  JONES 

"  I  know.  When  you  see  them  only  after  twelve 
o'clock,"  said  Charles  dreamily,  "  they  are." 

"  Thanks  so  much,"  said  the  girl,  when  she  went  back 
to  her  patroness,  Miss  Addenbroke.  "  He's  delightful, 
and  quite  mad.  We  had  a  splendid  time  up  there.  Did 
you  see  us  peering  down  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Honoria,  who  had  occupied  the  same  hid- 
ing-place with  Charles,  shortly  before.  He  knew  every 
corner  of  this  house,  to  a  surprising  degree,  as  though 
he  had  explored  it  before  now,  in  congenial  company. 
He  had  introduced  Honoria  almost  at  once  to  that  little 
gallery,  an  excellent  post  for  spying,  to  which  nobody 
but  he,  apparently,  had  learnt  the  way. 

"  He's  a  publisher  or  something  of  the  kind,"  said  the 
girl,  who  had  clearly  been  amused  by  Charles,  "  and  he 
says  his  head  is  turned  with  the  Christmas  books,  and 
that  nothing  seems  quite  real  to  him.  He  kept  on  for- 
getting my  name,  and  excused  himself  in  the  same  words 
every  time.  He  said  he  began  to  believe  in  me  before  I 
left  him,  and  might  consequently  venture  to  ask  me  for 
another  dance.  But  I  had  to  tell  him  my  name  again  for 
him  to  write  it  on  his  card.  He  said  he  saw  goblins 
among  the  roots  of  the  oaks  in  the  park  as  he  drove  up, 
and  the  moon  struck  him  as  the  wrong  shape.  And  he 
said  the  moment  he  came  in  at  the  door  he  felt  some- 
thing was  not  quite  right  with  the  house:  and  that  you 
had  made  him  feel  sure  of  it." 

"  I  ?  "  said  Honoria.  Charles  had  risked  the  chance 
of  his  partner  passing  this  on,  because  he  had  an  idea 
Miss  Addenbroke  would  misunderstand  it.  She  did. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  I  hope  he  has  not  taken  everything  I 
told  him  du  pied  de  la  lettre.  I  just  put  him  into  the 
swim  of  things  a  bit;  and  I  mentioned  his  wife's  little 
games  with  Johnny,  among  others,  and  Mrs.  Johnny's 
state  of  mind.  He  didn't  take  it  too  seriously,  I  hope." 

"  I  am  certain  he  didn't,"  said  the  girl.  "  Because, 
firstly,  he  is  quite  incapable  of  taking  anything  seriously, 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  425 

Miss  Addenbroke,  at  least  to-night.  And  secondly,  be- 
cause that  sort  of  thing  would  run  off  him  as  soon  as  said. 
He's  killing  about  her, — might  have  been  married  yester- 
day. He's  far  worse  than  Mr.  John." 

After  that  the  girl,  who  was  just  at  the  point,  reached 
by  most  people  after  an  evening's  acquaintance,  of  having 
had  enough  of  Honoria,  parted  with  her  brusquely  and 
went  elsewhere  for  introductions. 

Shortly  after  twelve  o'clock,  when  Christmas  morning 
had  come  in,  and  everybody  was  at  their  silliest,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  excellent  tradition  at  that  hour  of  the  year, 
Charles  met  this  sympathetic  girl  in  the  press  below  again. 

"  It's  all  right,  you  see,"  he  reassured  her  with  a  nod,  in 
confidence :  having  at  the  minute  his  wife's  hand  through 
his  arm.  "Just  when  the  clock  began  to  purr,  I  saw 
something  that  looked  like  her, — like  what  I  remembered, 
you  know.  And  before  it  had  finished  striking,  there  she 
was  over  by  the  door." 

"  I  hope  she  seems  as  usual,"  laughed  the  girl,  glancing 
apology  at  Violet  beyond,  who  did  not  know  her  the  least. 
Violet's  eyebrows  were  up,  patiently,  as  though  Charles 
had  long  been  putting  her  through  this  sort  of  thing. 

"  She  said  she  had  been  out  in  the  park."  Charles 
looked  at  his  late  partner  with  serious  blue  eyes.  "  She 
said  the  moon  was  so  beautiful.  It  struck  me  as  a  bit — • 

well !  What  do  you  say,  Miss "  he  had  forgotten  her 

name  again. 

"  You  might  introduce  me,  at  least,"  murmured  Violet, 
though  with  little  hope  of  Charles. 

"  He  can't,"  said  the  other  girl,  laughing.  "  He  simply 
can't  remember  it  for  five  minutes:  and  it's  not  a  long 
one,  either,  nor  hard  to  spell.  ...  I  think,  Mr. 
Shovell,  it  looks  bad.  You  have  noticed  nothing  wrong 
at  present,  I  hope." 

"  Only  the  way  she  dances,"  said  Charles  privately. 
"  It's  not  quite  what  I  remembered, — not  quite." 


426  DUKE  JONES 

"  Worse  ?  "  murmured  the  girl. 

"  Better.  .  .  .  She'd  been  practicing.  .  ,  .  There ! " 
said  Charles,  waking  suddenly  into  a  perfectly  normal 
frame  of  mind,  and  speaking  in  a  normal  tone  of  voice. 
"  There's  a  decent  space  at  last,  good  business.  Got 
your  train  safe,  ducky?  Come  along." 

II 

The  next  day,  being  that  indescribable  thing,  regarded 
as  a  day,  the  twenty-fifth  of  December,  most  of  the  young 
women  were  bored  by  the  afternoon,  and  the  young  men, 
largely  ill-tempered,  felt  the  need  of  violent  exercise. 
Shovell  had  good  ideas  in  these  things,  and  he  proposed 
a  game :  so  all  the  young  men  went  out  to  have  a  game, 
in  the  flattest  field  of  the  home  farm.  They  would  not 
say  what  sort  of  game, — no  one  ventured  to  give  it  a 
title, — they  looked  vague  about  it.  But  they  took  their 
hockey  clubs, — at  least,  those  did  who  had  them, — and 
the  others,  if  they  could  not  borrow  from  Johnny,  took 
all  sorts  of  things. 

They  particularly  did  not  want  any  girls, — the  rites 
were  private, — but  they  behaved  so  very  darkly  about  it 
beforehand,  especially  Charles,  that  several  girls  felt 
curious,  and  stole  down  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon, 
behind  the  hedge,  to  see.  Miss  Addenbroke  and  one  other 
girl,  eventually,  were  allowed  to  play,  as  numbers  proved 
short,  and  were  intolerably  puffed  up  in  consequence ; 
but  even  they, — one  of  them  a  Wrangler, — could  not  de- 
fine precisely  afterwards  what  the  game  had  been.  It 
had  to  go  down  to  posterity  unclassed.  They  were  only 
all  certain  of  one  thing, — that  Mr.  Shovell  was  very  silly. 

They  all  got  extremely  hot,  and  disreputable,  and 
muddy ;  but  they  came  trooping  home  in  excellent  spirits 
finally ;  and  if  the  Christmas  fare  that  evening  was  worth- 
ily discussed,  Mr.  Ingestre's  cook  should  have  thanked 
Charles. 

"  Where's  Mrs.  Shovell  got  to  ?  "  said  somebody,  dur- 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  427 

ing  a  truce  of  the  melee,  to  young  John.  The  group  of 
intruding  girls  by  the  hedge  certainly  did  not  include  her 
at  the  moment ;  but  she  might,  of  course,  have  been  there 
once,  and  evaporated.  That  was  what  somebody  meant. 
Also,  every  nice  girl  comes  down  once  to  watch  her  hus- 
band play,  if  he  show  such  misdirected  prowess  as 
Shovell.  Somebody,  who  was  John  Ingestre's  secretary, 
probably  included  this  in  his  suggestion.  Heroes  on  the 
field  of  glory  are  terse. 

"  She's  got  nowhere,"  said  the  son  of  the  house,  "  since 
she  never  came  out.  Mother  said  Sir  Claude  Ashw'in 
was  coming  down  for  the  afternoon." 

"  What's  he  ?  "  said  the  secretary. 

"  A  doctor  of  sorts,"  said  young  John.  "  Violet  stopped 
to  see  him." 

"Oh,  I  say!  What's  that  for?"  said  the  secretary, 
alarmed. 

"  'Cause  he's  her  father,"  said  Johnny.  "  Ho,  ho !  One 
for  you,  Mannering.  Look  at  his  face !  " 

"  Looks  at  the  last  gasp,  doesn't  she  ?  "  said  the  next 
person,  who  was  lying  on  his  back  on  the  grass.  "  Not 
got  over  that  eighth  waltz  with  you,  Mannering,  last  night. 
Ha,  ha !  " 

This  is  the  kind  of  mood  those  young  men  were  in. 
We  will  refrain  from  quoting  more  than  is  quite  neces- 
sary of  their  conversations. 

"  She's  got  him  fast,  so  far,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre,  in  the 
seclusion  of  his  own  little  room  of  business,  scratching 
his  chin.  "  Though  how  she's  done  it " 

He  spoke  to  Claude,  who  had,  very  properly,  granted 
him  the  preliminary  interview,  which  John  now  seemed 
inclined  to  draw  out.  Violet  was  not  the  subject  of  the 
interview,  which  was  semi-official  in  character;  they  had 
only  recurred  to  her  by  way  of  natural  relief  from  the 
main  theme,  peculiarly  painful  to  John.  Besides,  Mr. 
Ingestre  was  genuinely  curious  about  the  little  Shovell 


428  DUKE  JONES 

menage, — perplexed  almost;  and  he  had  an  idea  that 
Claude  might  throw  some  light  on  the  problem,  if  teased 
sufficiently.  Claude,  being  in  a  lazy  mood,  did  not  seem 
inclined  to  disturb  himself  on  the  matter,  so  John  did 
most  of  the  talking.  Charles'  stability  was  evidently  a 
nine  days'  wonder  to  John,  as  to  Eveleen.  He  could  not 
get  over  Charles. 

"  Not  that  I've  anything  against  the  girl,"  he  said,  for 
her  father's  reassurance.  "  The  contrary, — I  delight  in 
her.  She's  a  permanent  type,  belongs  to  no  generation 
in  particular.  That's  why  I  can  put  our  Jack's  nose  out 
of  joint,  when  we  both  happen  to  want  her  simultaneously. 
I  knew  a  dozen  charming  women  more  or  less  like  her 
in  my  time, — well,  Claude,  one  or  two.  And  I  observe 
Johnny's  side  is  rather  at  a  loss  when  she  runs  into  four 
syllables.  She  only  does  it  when  she's  excited,  bless  her, 
— takes  the  greatest  care  of  'em  generally."  John 
scratched  his  chin,  and  reverted.  "  It's  the  lad.  We 
know  all  about  that  sort,  you  know, — had  heaps  of  'em. 
I  knew  about  his  father  before  him,  too.  He's  a  scatter- 
brain, — rogue,  as  Agatha  says, — a  born  philanderer. 
Nothing  to  get  hold  of  anywhere,  you'd  say."  A  solemn 
pause,  Claude  offering  no  assistance. 

"  She's  pretty,  of  course, — prettyish,"  said  John. 
"  Lord  knows  if  she's  pretty  or  not, — I'm  always  look- 
ing at  her  to  see  if  I  can  find  out.  Perhaps  that's  what 
keeps  the  boy  going,  eh? — You  needn't  scoff,  Claude. 
She's  really  not  a  patch  on  what  her  mother  was,  any- 
how." 

"  Not  a  patch,"  agreed  Claude,  who  was  not  scoffing, 
at  least  audibly.  He  was  enjoying  the  country  view  out 
of  the  ground-floor  window. 

"  And  he's  a  grievance,"  proceeded  John,  "  in  that 
business  of  the  child.  That's  a  fair  grievance,  if  he 
wanted  one.  She  was  in  the  wrong  there,  you'll  admit." 

"  I  admitted  it,"  said  Claude,  "  to  the  extent  of  telling 
her  so,  at  some  length.  That  entered  my  office,  as  I  con- 
sidered." 


'EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  429 

"  You  scolded  her,  did  you  ?  Did  you  inform  her  she 
was  rash  ?  " 

"  Naturally, — that's  what  I  mean.  I  was  on  the  med- 
ical tack." 

"  Pish ! "  said  John  rudely.  He  was  often  rude  to 
Claude, — it  relieved  him.  "  As  regards  her  hold  on  her 
husband,  I  mean." 

"  No,"  said  Claude,  considering.  "  I  did  not  dwell  on 
that,  so  far  as  I  remember." 

"  It  might  not  have  struck  her,"  said  John.  "  She 
probably  had  other  worries  at  the  time." 

The  doctor  laughed,  and  then  excused  himself.  Then 
he  told  John,  as  already  once  before  during  the  conver- 
sation, that  his  house  had  a  remarkably  fine  position. 
After  that  he  answered  John's  last  observation. 

"  I  do  that  sort  of  thing  badly,"  he  explained.  "  Not 
to  mention  there  was  no  need  to  harp  on  it,  since  Eveleen 
was  safe  to  do  so." 

"  Ah,"  said  John,  interested.  "  Yes,  to  be  sure."  He 
had  not  thought  of  Eveleen. 

"  Besides,"  Claude  pursued  calmly,  "  it  would  have 
approached  impertinence,  from  me.  Violet  knows  her 
business  better  than  I  do.  I  never  saw  a  girl  give  her 
mind  to  anything  as  she  did  to  that  boy  the  year  before 
her  marriage, — and  she  had  evidence  and  to  spare,"  he 
added,  "  of  his  instability  then.  I  had  my  own  doubts 
at  the  time  if  he  were  worth  her  pains." 

"  Eh?  "  John  was  more  interested.  "  Why  didn't  you 
forbid  the  banns  ?  " 

"  I  left  it  to  her,"  said  Claude. 

"  Pooh,"  said  John.  "  Under  twenty,  wasn't  she  ? 
What's  the  good  of  that?  " 

"  I  was  approaching  fifty,"  said  Claude  idly.  "  What's 
the  good  of  that?" 

"  You're  talking  nonsense,  Ashwin,"  his  host  warned 
him,  "and  I'm  serious.  Besides,  you  needn't  pretend 
you're  over  fifty, — I  know  better.  .  .  .  You  think 
the  girl  did  it  with  her  eyes  open,  then  ?  " 


43o  DUKE  JONES 

"  Her  marriage  ?  " 

"  No, — confound  you !    That  escapade  to  Dover." 

"  Wide  open,"  said  Claude.  "  All  night,  worse  luck." 
His  own  absent  eyes  softened  at  the  memory.  "  She  was 
even,  as  you  suggested  yourself,  Ingestre,  looking  at 
more  than  one  thing  at  once.  Women  have  to." 

"  Fiddlesticks !  "  returned  John :  and  the  dialogue  ended. 

John's  dialogues  with  Claude  frequently  did ;  yet  he 
could  never  resist  the  temptation,  next  time  he  came 
across  him,  of  attacking  their  innumerable  differences 
again.  He  had  such  a  violent  desire,  during  the  period  of 
their  conversation,  to  drag  Claude  round  to  his  opinion ; 
but  the  most  he  could  generally  accomplish  was  to  reduce 
him  to  silence :  or  worse,  as  lately,  to  make  him  laugh. 

His  position  with  the  younger  man  was  the  more  diffi- 
cult that,  in  all  that  concerned  the  question  of  Eveleen, 
Claude  was  beyond  reproach  at  his  present  host's  hands, 
or  even  criticism.  He  even  seemed  to  be  conscious  of 
John's  feelings  on  the  subject,  which  John  most  angrily 
concealed.  Mr.  Ingestre  could  not  really  bear  to  talk  of 
Eveleen,  the  debacle  of  her  great  glory, — that  terrible 
twilight  of  the  gods  that  was  worse,  by  far,  than  death 
to  John,  as  to  all  who  had  ever  adored  her.  Yet  Claude 
himself  had  adored  her,  John  could  not  deny;  and  there 
he  sat,  taking  it  with  that  fatal  medical  calm, — as  though 
such  a  thing  had  ever  happened  to  such  a  woman  before ! 
He  seemed  to  know  all  John's  feeling  as  he  talked;  he 
was  dexterous  and  gentle  as  he  would  have  been  with 
any  sensitive  patient;  and  yet  the  head  of  her  family 
knew  all  there  was  to  know  of  Eveleen,  invariably,  before 
Mr.  Ingestre,  often  with  deliberate  discourtesy,  shut  off 
communications.  From  such  angry  striving  with  the 
inevitable,  the  subject  of  the  "  little  girl's  "  affairs,  the 
little  sorrows  and  showers  of  the  spring-tide,  were  an 
almost  exquisite  solace  to  John.  Perhaps  to  the  little 
girl's  father  too,  only,  with  such  as  Claude,  one  could  not 
know. 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  431 

"  Well,"  said  John,  finally  releasing  him,  "  go  to  the 
child;  she's  waiting,  I  suppose.  I  thought  she  might  in- 
vade us  if  I  dawdled,  but  I  suppose,  as  usual,  she  is  too 
correct.  What's  that  ?  " 

The  doctor,  who  had  risen  at  once  at  the  permission, 
had  taken  up  his  heavy  coat,  which  lay  across  a  chair,  and 
extracted  a  packet  from  its  recesses. 

"  They  are  the  first  proofs,"  he  said,  "  of  my  son-in- 
law's  sonnets,  which  I  was  intrusted  by  Lucas  Warden  to 
deliver." 

"  You  mean  he  writes  ?  "  snapped  John. 

"  Certainly, — did  you  not  know  ?  Perhaps  you  would 
hand  them  to  him,  John, — I  have  a  notion  I  had  better 
not  let  on  to  Violet.  They  were  aimed  at  her  birthday, 
originally,  so  I  was  informed ;  and  will  consequently  miss 
Christmas,  and  be  ready  very  doubtfully  for  the  New 
Year.  Charles  will  not  look  out,  or  make  up,  the  half- 
dozen  more  Warden  needs  to  complete  the  book.  War- 
den has  run  the  first  lot  into  print  to  encourage  him.  He 
told  me  he  loved  to  see  himself  in  print." 

"  There  you  are !  "  said  John  impatiently.  "  Everyone 
talks  of  him  like  that." 

"  It's  a  human  weakness,"  said  Claude,  apologizing  for 
Charles.  "  I  like  to  see  myself  in  print,  too,  awfully." 

"  When's  the  world  going  to  see  you  ?  "  said  John,  fol- 
lowing him  out  to  the  hall.  Having  dismissed,  he  was 
aware  of  a  wish  to  detain  him. 

"  Never,  at  this  rate."  He  tossed  Charles'  proofs  on 
the  table.  "  It  won't  be  much  loss  to  the  world.  I  am 
coming  to  that  conclusion."  Claude  swung  about,  and 
glanced  up  the  stairway  behind  him.  "  Yes,  Pussy-cat, 
we  have  finished :  come  along.  Got  your  cloak?  We  will 
go  outside,  John,  if  you  will  excuse  us." 

"  Is  the  great  work  not  advancing?  "  persisted  John,  as 
Violet  descended  the  last  flight  like  a  cascade,  and  was 
stayed  from  annihilation  by  her  father's  arm. 

"  That's  not  the   way  to  put  it,   Cousin  John,"  she 


432  DUKE  JONES 

observed.  "  Is  the  great  work  steadily  decreasing,  Father 
dear?" 

"  Steadily,"  said  Sir  Claude  serenely.  "  Ford  wrote  a 
page  last  month,  and  I  tore  up  a  chapter." 

"  Oh,  you  exquisites !  "  Mr.  Ingestre  looked  from  one 
to  the  other.  "  You're  not  going  to  drag  her  out,  Claude  ? 
Nonsense,  it's  raining.  Come  to  my  room." 

"  You  can't  be  so  cruel,  doctor,"  added  Mrs.  Shovell, 
laying  her  head  against  his  arm.  "  I  shall  have  to  curl 
my  hair  again." 

"  We  talk  better  walking,"  Claude  explained  to  John, 
"  that's  the  fact." 

"  Faster,"  said  Violet.  "  Just  show  me  exactly  how 
long  you  have,  to  regulate  my  tempo  accordingly."  She 
caught  his  watch.  "  Oh,  mercy, — no,  I've  not  the  breath ! 
It  can't  be  necessary,  Father, — you  overdo  it,  you  know. 
You  won't  see  Charles." 

"  I  shall,  if  he's  up  to  time,"  said  Claude. 

"  He  won't  be,"  said  Violet.  "  You  can't  seriously 
expect  it,  when  he  is  running  about  with  a  ball." 

"  There  you  are ! "  said  John  again.  "  She's  as  bad 
as  the  rest."  He  shoved  the  proof-packet  unconsciously 
with  his  hand,  in  irritation. 

"  What  are  those  ?  "  said  the  girl,  her  quick  eye  caught 
by  the  movement. 

"Your  husband's  proofs,"  said  her  father  at  once. 
"  Warden  gave  them  me,  to  spare  burdening  the  Christ- 
mas post." 

"  What  has  he  been  doing  now  ?  "  said  Violet,  with 
resignation. 

"  Everything  he  shouldn't,  as  usual,"  said  Sir  Claude. 
"  A  pack  of  impartial  effusions,  my  dear.  You  can  set- 
tle him  afterwards.  Come  along  now." 

"  Impartial?  "  John  was  amused  to  see  her  color  rise 
as  she  underlined  the  word.  "  Not  truly,  Father  ?  " 

"  You'd  better  have  a  look,"  jibed  John.  "  We  can't 
afford  impartiality  in  our  poets,  can  we  ?  " 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  433 

She  touched  the  packet  for  a  minute  with  one  little 
hand,  then  pushed  it  from  her  with  decision. 

"  Mr.  Warden's  been  flattering  him,  I  suppose.  Oh 
dear,  isn't  he  tiresome  ?  He  might  tell  me,  at  least." 

"  Come  along,"  repeated  Claude,  with  the  impatience  of 
a  boy,  holding  her  furred  cloak.  Having  her  inside  it,  he 
wrapped  it  closely  all  about  her,  and  swept  her  in  the 
same  movement  towards  the  garden  door.  Before  they 
reached  it  she  was  chattering  to  him  low,  and  John  heard 
her  little  laugh  at  his  reply.  He  had  the  old  sensation, 
on  witnessing  it,  of  a  fine  harmony, — two  beings  in  per- 
fect tune,  physical  and  mental.  They  would  have  walked 
together,  or  danced,  he  was  sure,  with  the  same  light 
ease  that  they  conversed.  Young  as  he  still  looked,  at 
least  in  action,  they  might  have  been  brother  and  sister 
rather  than  father  and  child.  He  had  had  the  same  im- 
pression from  Claude's  fashion  of  speaking  of  her  in 
the  late  dialogue, — that  of  sheer  friendliness.  The  girl 
had  the  rare  spirit  that  is  friendly  to  man ;  and  with  this 
man  alone  she  could  offer  all  she  had  at  her  ease,  being 
sure  of  the  fair  exchange. 

Mr.  Ingestre  did  not  get  as  far  as  this  last  thought, 
naturally :  but  he  felt  enlightened  a  little,  for  all  Claude's 
reticence,  and  he  took  immediate  measures  to  become 
more  so;  for,  at  their  departure,  he  laid  hands, — most 
unrighteous  hands, — on  Charles'  proofs.  John  was  used 
to  playing  tyrant,  and  doing  what  he  liked  in  his  own 
house;  and  this,  to  his  ideas,  was  only  going  a  little  be- 
yond his  rights,  if  at  all.  It  was  his  business  to  investi- 
gate the  state  of  things,  if  Claude  would  not;  and  any- 
how, the  investigation  was  likely  to  be  amusing. 

It  was  purely  so,  for  long.  He  spent  a  most  interest- 
ing hour  over  Charles'  "  effusions,"  until  the  light  failed. 
The  verses  were  excellent  reading,  and  stood  the  fire  even 
of  John's  criticism  wonderfully  well.  The  workmanship 
was  good,  and  the  feeling  creditable.  They  were  ad- 
dressed to  some  dozen  of  different  females,  as  Mr.  In- 


434  DUKE  JONES 

gestre  expected,  and  the  discovery  vaguely  gratified  him. 
One  or  two  were  deliberately  light,  in  his  personal  vein 
of  drollery,  but  those  were  the  exceptions.  In  the  major- 
ity, he  seemed  serious  enough. 

Then,  at  the  tail-end,  John  came  upon  the  sheaf  of 
honeymoon  sonnets,  each  betraying  itself  artlessly  to  a 
curious  world  by  a  place-name  and  a  date.  There  was 
even  one  about  John's  own  house,  which  tickled  both  his 
humor  and  his  family  pride.  The  rest  dealt  with  various 
subjects,  but  chiefly  with  Charles.  The  second  person 
singular  occurred  in  them,  as  was  proper,  here  and  there, 
but  very  delicately  disseminated ;  I,  my,  and  myself  were 
commoner.  John  smiled  grimly,  reading;  but  he  began 
to  have  his  doubts,  as  he  went  along,  first,  if  the  boy 
should  publish  this  sort  of  thing:  and  secondly,  whether 
he  should  read.  It  was  all  terribly  young,  innocent,  and 
obvious, — like  Charles;  but  it  had  something  else  which 
John,  merciless  critic  as  he  was,  admitted  as  he  pursued. 
He  had  the  gift,  this  boy, — he  wielded  the  power  which 
John  did  not  seek  to  define,  beyond  that  it  swayed  his 
senses  pleasurably,  and  touched  him  now  and  then.  Art- 
less as  the  tongue  seemed  that  he  used,  it  was  the  tongue 
transmitted  from  the  first  best  masters  of  our  lyric  verse. 
It  struck  John,  as  with  many  young  poets,  that  Charles 
had  read  before  he  wrote:  but  he  had  drenched  himself 
in  the  right  school.  He  had  not  squandered  time  over 
Rosetti  and  the  moderns.  He  teased  the  language,  and 
fidgeted  his  phrases  at  times :  but  his  aim  was  precise  in 
general,  and  his  taste  pure.  John,  still  doubting  whether 
he  should  read,  read  on  persistently,  and  even  went 
through  some  of  them  twice;  to  test  the  measure  and 
rhythm,  not  to  understand.  Their  lucidity  throughout 
was  their  first  charm. 

Then  he  came  to  a  poem  about  a  lighthouse,  and  read 
it  three  times  through  before  he  understood  it  at  all,  and 
stopped  over  it  for  long. 

He  stopped,  first,  because  it  was  by  far  the  best  he  had 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  435 

reached,  and  different  in  style — strangely  intimate  and 
tender,  even  a  trifle  shy.  It  had  borrowed  another  char- 
acter. Next,  because  it  was  absolutely  difficult,  written, 
as  it  were,  in  cipher,  and  needing  both  thought  and  sym- 
pathy in  the  reader  to  interpret.  Thirdly,  because  it  had 
a  tang  of  the  unusual, — the  use  of  words  was  quaint. 
"  Impartial "  was  an  odd  word,  for  instance, — the  light- 
house "  scattered  its  impartial  light,"  in  the  second  line, — 
and  recalled  to  John  an  Ashwin  dialogue  lately.  It  cer- 
tainly did  not  sound  like  Charles.  Having  fairly  made 
it  out,  Mr.  Ingestre  decided  it  was  "  deuced  pretty," 
and  summoned  his  wife,  who  was  passing  through  the 
hall,  to  come  and  agree  with  him. 

"  He  was  tolerably  far  gone  then,  at  any  rate," 
observed  John,  handing  the  page  to  her.  "  Just  look 
at  that." 

"Who  gave  you  this?"  said  Agatha,  when  she  had 
looked. 

"  Claude  left  them,"  said  John  unblushing.  "  What  do 
you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  the  girl  would  object,  with  reason,  if  she 
knew." 

"  Get  along,"  said  John.  "  She'd  be  delighted."  But 
he  recollected  the  girl's  change  of  color  at  her  father's 
allusion  as  he  spoke. 

"  Violet  is  shy,"  said  Agatha,  "  really  shy.  It's  not  fair 
of  the  boy  to  '  afficher '  her." 

"  I  tell  you  women  love  it,"  said  John,  neglecting  the 
fact  that  he  was  speaking  to  one.  Agatha  did  not  count 
when  he  generalized  on  the  subject.  "  When  do  you  sup- 
pose," he  proceeded,  having  let  her  read  it  through  again, 
"  he  added  the  fifteenth  line?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  was  wondering,"  she  answered.  "  It 
must  have  been  some  time  after  composition,  to  make 
sense." 

The  lines  to  the  lighthouse  had  neither  date  nor  dedica- 
tion, but  Charles  had  taken  a  motto  to  his  sonnet  from 


436  DUKE  JONES 

another,  and  it  stood  printed  small,  but  for  all  the  world 
to  read,  across  the  top. 

"Thyself  thou  gav'st,  thy  own  worth  then  not  knowing." 

That  was  the  "  fifteenth  line." 

"  Where  does  it  come  from  ?  "  said  John,  after  a  pause. 

"  Elizabethan,  I  should  think,"  said  Agatha. 

"  I  could  have  got  as  far  as  that.  There  are  a  dozen 
Elizabethans."  Then,  as  she  only  shrugged — "  What's 
the  good  of  you  ?  "  he  said  crossly,  struggling  to  his  feet. 
"  Claude  would  have  known."  He  took  down  some 
volumes  from  his  shelves. 

"  It's  likely  to  be  Shakespeare,"  said  Agatha  presently. 
"  Violet  says  he  reads  nothing  else." 

"Why  couldn't  you  say  so  sooner?"  said  John,  and 
put  up  the  book  he  had  chosen  to  take  down  another. 

Presently  he  found  it,  and  read  her  the  sonnet,  his  voice 
changing  oddly,  its  rasping  accent  vanishing,  to  do  justice 
to  art,  and  to  woman,  of  course,  by  the  way.  It  was 
superb  nonsense,  as  he  said, — the  last  word  in  eulogy, 
some  of  the  finest  flattery  ever  penned.  John  approved  of 
flattery,  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  courtly  style :  though 
he  snapped  his  wife  most  uncivilly  short  in  all  the  com- 
ments she  made  upon  it,  until  he  reached  the  finishing 
couplet — 

"Thus  have  I  had  thee,  as  a  dream  may  flatter 
In  sleep  a  King ." 

"  A  King  writes,"  said  Agatha,  in  a  kind  of  exultation. 
"  He  can't  disguise  it." 

"  A  ramshackle  playwright  wrote  it,"  said  John,  for  the 
sake  of  contradiction,  "  in  love  with  a  soubrette." 

Agatha,  who  was  aware  that  the  lines  in  question  had 
been  addressed,  in  the  original  instance,  to  a  man,  did  not 
contradict  him,  though  her  eyes  showed  grim  amusement. 
Her  "  scores  "  over  John  were  generally  private,  and  in 
the  present  case,  possessing  "  the  girl's  "  full  confidence, 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  437 

she  was  more  than  ever  inclined  to  hug  the  facts  she 
knew.  It  was  the  woman's  conspiracy,  well-known  where 
such  as  John  are  concerned. 

"  Those  men,"  she  observed,  "  were  in  love  with  their 
own  language, — nothing  more.  I  expect  the  lady  was  a 
dream." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  said  John. 

"  Imaginary, — why  not  ?  Shakespeare  had  dreams 
enough  to  draw  upon.  It  often  surprises  me  the  com- 
mentators never  think  of  that.  No  real  woman  was  ever 
worthy  of  words  like  those." 

John  looked  vexed.  "  What  does  it  signify  if  she  was 
worthy?  She  wasn't  probably.  It's  the  last  thing  likely 
in  the  case.  But  she  was  there, — and  we  have  got  the 
sonnets." 

"  And  leave  them  in  the  shelves,"  said  Agatha,  turning 
to  the  door. 

"Well,  little  Shovell  doesn't,"  said  John.  He  threw 
Shakespeare  aside,  and  limped  back  to  Charles'  proofs. 

"  It's  a  deuced  nice  way  to  treat  a  woman,"  was  his  final 
opinion.  "  I  shouldn't  have  said  the  boy  was  capable  of 
it.  I  like  him  better  than  I  did." 

in 

When  Charles  came  in,  among  the  very  last  and  dirtiest 
group  of  the  day's  heroes,  he  espied  Violet's  skirts  just 
vanishing  round  the  turn  of  the  staircase  as  he  attained 
the  hall.  He  was  exactly  an  hour  later  than  he  had  prom- 
ised her,  but  quite  serene,  of  course:  as  though  people 
had  not  been  waiting  for  him,  and  delaying  their  affairs 
in  town  for  him,  for  half  the  afternoon. 

"  Hullo,  darling,"  he  called,  shamelessly  loud,  since  he 
needed  to  detain  her.  "  Turn  on  the  bath,  if  you  are 
going  up." 

"  Don't,"  counseled  Johnny,  who  followed  Charles. 
"  Keep  him  in  his  place,  Violet." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  of  it,"  said  Violet,  preparing  to  re- 


438  DUKE  JONES 

treat.  As  the  hall  below  her  was  filling  with  dirty  heroes, 
very  loud  of  tongue,  and  all  half-dressed,  it  seemed  no 
more  than  kind  to  do  so. 

"  Governor  gone  ?  "  demanded  the  shameless  Charles. 

"  The  governor  has.  The  Queen  or  somebody  wanted 
him.  He  sent  his  obsequious  apologies." 

"  Give  you  anything  ?  "  said  Charles. 

"  Naturally,"  said  Violet. 

"Decent?"  said  Charles. 

"  Naturally;  and  he  left  that  note  for  you." 

"Which?" 

"  Under  your  nose, — with  the  parcel.  Oh,  show  him, 
John,  will  you  ?  He's  blind." 

"  You're  drunk,  Shovell,"  said  Johnny,  indicating  it. 
Mrs.  Shovell  above  slipped  round  the  corner  of  the 
staircase. 

"Christmas  present?"  shouted  Charles,  louder  than 
ever,  in  her  wake. 

"  From  Mr.  Warden,"  she  called  back  dryly.  "  Re- 
turned with  thanks,  I  understand." 

"  Little  beast,"  muttered  Charles ;  but  he  himself  had 
sought  publicity.  There  was  exactly  one  circle  among 
Mr.  Shovell's  immense  acquaintance  from  whom  he  would 
have  preferred  to  disguise  his  literary  aspirations,  and  he 
stood  among  them  at  this  moment. 

With  a  yell  of  delight,  John  Ingestre  the  younger  cast 
himself  upon  the  sheaf  of  proofs :  and  several  others  of 
Charles'  dear  friends  followed  him.  The  poet,  just  from 
the  fray,  had  to  gird  on  his  armor  once  more,  and  fight 
for  his  own, — not  to  mention  hers, — against  considerable 
odds.  He  just  succeeded  in  wresting  the  printed  matter 
from  their  hands ;  but  the  fact  that  Shovell  wrote  verses, 
and  was  in  the  habit  of  being  rejected  by  his  publishers 
was,  owing  to  Violet,  deeply  rooted  in  all  their  minds: 
and  as  the  frame  of  their  heroic  minds  was  a  happy,  not 
to  say  a  hungry  one,  one  subject  served  them  amply  for 
the  whole  of  dinner-time.  The  second  fact,  as  Charles 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  439 

continued  fruitlessly  to  assert,  was  false.  It  was  slightly 
the  more  amusing  of  the  two,  so  nobody  attended  to  him. 

"  It's  not  the  case,  sir,"  said  Charles,  turning  to  his 
host,  in  extremity.  "  It's  the  opposite  of  the  truth.  That's 
what  she  generally  tells." 

"  You  don't  mean  Warden  wants  more  of  the  same 
sort  ?  "  said  John,  who  was  watching  him  steadily,  in  his 
valiant  struggle  against  numbers.  Detected  as  he  was, 
and  the  center  of  attention,  he  was  not  at  all  confused ; 
and  he  gave  quite  as  good  as  he  got,  whenever  he  could 
make  anybody  listen  to  him. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  Warden  wants  more,  a  little  differ- 
ent. Sir  Claude  says  so,  in  his  letter." 

"  About  a  different  girl  ?  "  said  John.  "  Between  our- 
selves, Shovell,  I  should  say  there  were  quite  enough  for 
one  volume  already." 

"  Well,"  said  Charles,  after  a  short  pause  devoted  to 
choosing  between  three  dishes,  "  Warden  thinks  there 
aren't.  And  Sir  Claude,  who  has  read  'em, — more  than 
can  be  said  for  any  of  you, — thinks  the  same.  And  I'd 
take  his  opinion  in  front  of  anybody's,"  finished  Charles. 
"  Anybody  here."  He  recurred  to  his  dinner. 

"  You  did  not  seem  very  anxious  to  hear  it,"  said  John. 
"  I  quite  see  now  why  you  avoided  Claude.  He  might 
have  been  severe  on  the  subject.  He  would  sooner  you 
had  stuck  to  one  girl,  I  mean.  So  would  Violet  there,  I 
shouldn't  wonder." 

"  She  doesn't  care  a  hang,"  said  Charles.  "  She  hasn't 
asked  to  look  at  'em,  even, — this  time." 

"  Hullo !  "  said  Mr.  Ingestre.  "  Was  there  another 
time  ?  When  was  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  years  ago,  before  I  was  engaged.  She  read  those 
fast  enough.  And  my  stuff's  improved  a  lot  since  then," 
added  Charles  reflectively,  "  if  she  knew." 

"  Poor  girl,"  said  John,  not  loud,  but  with  sufficient 
clearness  to  carry  down  the  table.  Several  people  looked 
at  Mrs.  Shovell,  hoping  she  would  be  lured  to  take  a  hand. 


440  DUKE  JONES 

"  Hasn't  he  written  about  you  at  all,  since  then,  Vio- 
let ?  "  said  Johnnie  compassionately,  following  his  father's 
lead.  "  Rotten  luck."  And  the  jest  was  taken  up  in  other 
directions,  and  repeated  in  other  words. 

"  He  did,  once,"  said  Violet,  when  she  could  no  longer 
avoid  it.  "  Some  quite  nice  ones.  But  Father  says  he 
revised  them." 

"  When  ?  "  cried  John  the  elder,  across  the  renewed 
clamor  of  derision  and  delight. 

"When  he  wrote  them? — Down  by  the  sea  one  sum- 
mer, when  he  had  time." 

"  When  he  revised  them,"  said  John.  "  That's  a  deal 
more  important." 

"  Oh "  she  looked  serious, — "  I  can't  exactly  say. 

Father  caught  him  at  it,  when  I  was  not  about.  Father 
takes  a  great  interest,"  added  Violet.  "  Always  did." 

John  looked  at  her  hard.  Then  he  looked  at  Charles,1 
who  had  not  changed  color,  though  he  had  shot  one 
speaking  glance  at  her  between  two  mouthfuls.  Conver- 
sation surged  up  again  about  her,  cutting  him  off,  had  he 
been  inclined  to  retaliate.  But  he  seemed,  on  reflection, 
to  prefer  his  food. 

"  I  only  added  one  line  to  one  o'f  'em,"  he  murmured 
to  his  neighbor.  "  That's  not  revising.  Beastly  low 
down,  I  call  it,  of  Sir  Claude." 

"  Your  own  line?  "  inquired  Mr.  Ingestre, — "  or  some- 
body else's?" 

Mr.  Shovell  stopped  feeding  himself  for  some  three 
seconds,  and  John  had  the  full  glance  of  his  blue  eyes. 
Then  he  turned  back  to  his  partner  again  without  reply- 
ing :  but  John  had  all  the  answer  he  needed  to  the  question 
he  had  debated  with  his  wife.  It  was  during  the  girl's 
illness,  evidently,  that  Charles  had  added  the  fifteenth 
line. 

Mr.  Ingestre  did  all  things  deliberately,  whether  grace- 
ful or  the  reverse.  At  the  tail-end  of  the  magnificent 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  441 

meal,  on  moving  from  the  dining-room  to  the  hall,  he 
overtook  Violet's  husband  and  laid  a  hand  upon  his  arm. 
He  often  availed  himself  of  a  young  arm  in  this  way, 
and,  as  the  youth  John  gathered  about  his  board  were 
well-bred,  they  were  generally  willing  enough  to  be  use- 
ful. Mr.  Shovell,  who  was  aiming  at  the  billiard-room, 
slackened  to  accommodate  him. 

"  I  hope  you  have  had  a  good  dinner,  Charles,"  said 
John. 

"  Very,  thanks,"  said  Charles,  slightly  surprised.  The 
Ingestres  did  not  commonly  use  his  first  name, — had  not, 
at  least,  hitherto.  He  had  remained  quite  contentedly 
without  the  ring. 

"  Then  I  have  some  hope  to  be  excused,"  said  John,  in 
his  best  manner :  which  was  very  good.  "  I  own  I 
snatched  your  proofs  from  the  hall  and  read  them.  It 
was  indefensible,  but  Claude  had  made  me  curious.  Your 
wife,  I  may  add,  refused  to  do  the  like,  on  provocation." 

"  She  knows  most  of  'em  already,"  said  Charles,  in  the 
correct  schoolboy  tone  of  indifference.  They  came  to  a 
stand  in  the  center  of  the  hall,  the  crowd  having  passed 
them  to  the  billiard-room. 

"  The  lighthouse?  "  said  John. 

"  Yes, — she  saw  that  when  it  was  written.  Think  we 
wrote  it  together,"  said  Charles, — "  all  but  one  line." 

"  Just  so.    May  I  know  when  that  line  was  added  ?  " 

"  When  she  was  so  frightfully  ill  that  time.  I'd  nothing 
else  to  do,"  said  Charles. 

"  But  sing  her  praises,"  suggested  John.  "  Or  make 
Shakespeare  do  so." 

"  Well,  he'd  have  liked  it,"  said  Charles.  "  He's  just 
the  fellow  who  would." 

"Liked  what?" 

"  What  she  did ;  when  she  eloped  with  her  father's 
chauffeur,  and  met  us  at  Dover  in  the  rain.  Perhaps  you 
never  heard  that  yarn  ?  "  His  color  had  risen,  and  his 
look,  to  John's  eyes,  was  pure  pride. 


442  DUKE  JONES 

"Ah,  yes,  I  heard.  She  suffered  for  it,  didn't  she?" 
He  waited  for  the  boy  to  complain,  knowing  he  had 
suffered  too. 

"  She  nearly  died,"  said  Charles. 

"  It  was  plucky,"  suggested  John,  adopting  that  view, — 
call  it  the  boy's  view, — the  one  Charles  said  Shakespeare 
would  have  shared. 

"  It  took  my  wind,  when  I  thought  about  it  after- 
wards," said  Charles. 

"  Not  at  the  time." 

"  I  was  worried  at  the  time." 

John  accepted  it, — facer  to  his  theory  as  it  was.  He 
had  to:  one  could  not  possibly  doubt  Charles'  sincerity. 
After  an  interval,  as  the  young  man  still  stood  in  front  of 
him,  he  said: 

"  Perhaps  I  should  mention,  she  turned  crimson  when 
Claude  said  the  poem  was  in  print." 

"Did  she?"  Charles  gave  him  that  direct  brief  look 
again.  "  Oh  well,  that  settles  it,"  he  said  simply.  "  I 
don't  mean  to  add  to  them,  and  Warden  won't  bind  it  as 
it  stands.  It  will  just  lie  over, — better  so." 

"  Did  it  not  strike  you  she  would  mind  ?  "  John  pressed 
him. 

"  No,"  said  Charles,  after  a  pause.  "  Warden  says  it's 
the  best  of  the  lot." 

"  So  does  her  father, — so  do  I.  It  is  a  beautiful  little 
poem."  The  poet  colored  again,  just  sufficiently.  Fair 
as  he  was,  Charles  was  not  given  to  blushing,  but  he  did 
so  twice  in  this  conversation.  "  Will  you  copy  it  for  me, 
since  it  is  not  to  be  published  ?  "  said  John. 

"  I  don't  mind,  if  she  doesn't,"  said  Charles,  after  an- 
other pause. 

"  Right,"  said  John,  unconsciously  aloud.  "  Will  you 
ask  her,  or  shall  I  ?  " 

Before  the  next  pause  could  be  prolonged — "  There  she 
is,"  said  Charles.  He  held  out  his  hand,  and  snapped  his 
fingers,  as  a  white  shape  crossed  the  shadow  under  the 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  443 

stairs.  She  came  to  his  side  on  the  instant,  and  was,  as 
promptly,  stolen  by  John's  arm. 

"  Hullo, — what's  that?  "  said  Mr.  Ingestre,  diverted  for 
a  moment  by  the  glint  of  the  jewel  round  her  neck.  He 
seized  and  examined  it,  with  his  fine  fingers,  and  hawk- 
like eyes.  "  That's  not  mine." 

"  No,  it's  Father's,  he  brought  for  me  to-day.  I  had  to 
wear  it,  since  he  couldn't  stay  to  dinner.  Do  you  mind 
terribly,  just  for  to-night?  " 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  him.  She  had  cried  since  her 
father  went,  as  John  knew,  for  he  had  rashly  tried  to  way- 
lay her  by  force,  when  she  came  back  from  the  gate.  He 
had  regretted  the  attempt,  for  her  wrath  had  scorched 
him  passingly.  Since  then,  neither  he  nor  Agatha  had  seen 
her.  She  had  had  more  confidences  than  he,  in  the  matter 
of  her  mother,  John  could  only  suppose. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  when  he  had  investigated  her  father's 
gift,  and  her,  at  his  leisure.  "  I  do  mind  terribly.  Go 
and  change." 

"  I  would  have  put  on  both,"  she  assured  him,  "  only 
they  swear  together." 

"  Well,  that's  what  your  father  and  I  do  when  we 
meet,"  said  John. 

"  Oh  no,  he  doesn't.  Father  was  in  a  beautiful  temper, 
when  he  came  to  me." 

"  Go  and  change,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre  grimly. 

"  Oh  dear !  "  said  Violet,  turning  from  him.  "  What 
are  those  frightfully  trampled  girls  called,  in  books  like 
Ivanhoe,  with  baronial  castles  ?  " 

"  Wards,"  said  Charles,  at  a  venture. 

"  That's  it,  dear, — how  clever  of  you !  Downtrodden 
nieces,  aren't  they,  generally?  I  was  always  so  thankful 
when  the  poor  thing  got  married,  after  the  most  terrible 
time." 

"  He  must  be  confusing  you  with  Miss  Addenbroke," 
said  Charles,  with  a  bright  idea. 

"  You're  mixing  me  with  Honoria,  Cousin  John !  "    She 


444  DUKE  JONES 

slipped  under  his  arm,  caught  her  husband's,  and  faced 
him,  triumphantly  mischievous. 

"  Curse  Honoria,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre,  as  no  doubt  the 
baron  would  have  said  in  a  like  situation.  "Let  go, 
Shovell,  I  haven't  finished.  Hang  it,  I've  not  begun !  " 

"  Go  to  blazes,"  returned  Charles,  taking  up  the  part 
assigned  to  him.  "  Never  you  fear,  ducky, — you've  mar- 
ried me.  We  got  safe  away  beyond  the  bloodhounds, — 
slew  dozens  of  'em, — remember?" 

"  Into  the  Duchy, — so  we  did.  We  are  out  of  your 
power,  Cousin  John :  you  can't  do  anything.  Our  story 
finished  nicely,  in  spite  of  you." 

"  It's  not  finished  yet,"  said  John,  looking  grimly  upon 
the  pair  of  them.  It  was  hard  to  look  grim,  however  in- 
dignant one  might  inwardly  be  with  fate.  The  shadow  of 
the  unjust  fate  that  had  haunted  her  throughout  those 
three  years  lay  still  about  her  eyes  this  night  of  festival. 
She  was  bearing  her  father's  burden,  John  was  sure,  even 
while  she  jested  lightly  with  him  and  Charles;  and  the 
chances  were,  that  Claude's  Christmas  in  town  was  the 
better  for  it. 

"  Quite  absolutely  ended,"  she  assured  him  gravely. 
"  I'm  twenty-three." 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?— Twenty-three !  "  Mr. 
Ingestre  laughed  in  spite  of  himself.  "  Look  here,  now, 
Violet."  The  tyrant  stooped  to  bargaining.  "  Haven't  I 
done  my  best  for  you,  wards  or  none?  Haven't  I  used 
you  well?" 

They  looked  at  one  another,  considering  it. 

"  Jolly  good  dinner,"  admitted  the  gentleman. 

"  It  was  frightfully  pretty,"  said  the  lady,  her  fine  hand 
clutching  her  father's  Christmas  gift.  "  I  will  wear  it 
to-morrow,  I  promise, — every  single  day  till  I  go." 

"  It's  not  enough.  I  am  not  content.  I  want  something 
from  each  of  you,  here  and  now." 

"  What?  "  She  turned  to  Charles,  who  informed  her 
low-toned.  She  grew  serious  while  he  told  her,  her  gray 
eyes  leveled  beyond  John. 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  445 

"  Oh  yes."  A  pause.  "  You  may  have  his  thing, 
Cousin  John.  That  will  be  all  right." 

"  Thanks,  Charles,"  said  John.    "  Now  for  the  other." 

"  But  I  gave  you  mine  this  morning.  Particularly 
nicely  worked,  it  was."  She  clung  to  Charles.  "  It's  too 
late  for  giving*'  really,  now." 

"  Excuses,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre.  "  Are  you  aware  where 
you  are  standing  ?  " 

"  ]Jnder  your  roof -tree,  of  course.  It's  a  very  nice 
one^ " 

"  Particularly  nice,"  said  the  tyrant. 

"  Look  out,"  Charles  muttered.    "  Look  up." 

She  looked  up.  She  became  aware  of  Mr.  Ingestre's 
roof-tree,  and  of  what  depended  from  it.  She  was  far  too 
quick  for  Mr.  Ingestre,  and  just  too  quick  for  Charles. 
Before  either  could  so  much  as  snatch,  she  was  well 
beyond  reach,  and  half-way  up  the  first  broad  flight  of 
stairs. 

Having  so  eluded,  she  stood  a  moment  radiant  above 
them,  and  well  above  the  fatal  bough.  Then  she  swept 
down  again,  and  from  the  vantage-ground  of  the  third  or 
fourth  stair,  caught  the  tall  baron's  head. 

"  You'd  rather  have  taken  it,"  she  informed  him.  "  You 
don't  care  to  be  given  things  that  you  could  seize  with 
fire  and  slaughter.  You  have  a  kind  of  Crusading  feeling 
about  it,  haven't  you,  Cousin  John  ?  " 

"  That  was  how  the  Crusaders  felt,  was  it  ?  "  said  John. 
"  You  have  the  historical  instinct,  Violet :  you  are  prob- 
ably quite  right.  It  sounds  thoroughly  religious,  anyhow. 
Personally,  I  admit  the  charge.  I  care  neither  to  be 
given,  nor  forgiven,  in  this  life.  I  can't  abide  the 
sensation." 

"  I  know,"  she  said.  "  I  am  not  forgiving,  or  giving 
you  anything.  I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  Au  contraire, 
I  was  just  going  quietly  up  to  put  on  your  necklace  when 
I  left  you  just  now." 

"  That's  a  lie,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre :  taking  care,  however, 
not  to  move. 


446  DUKE  JONES 

"Which  is  prettier  than  Father's,"  proceeded  Violet. 
"  Less  expensive,  you  know,  but  prettier." 

"  That's  three,"  counted  John.  "  Good  ones,  full  meas- 
ure. Don't  stop,  my  love,  I  like  mendacity.  Do  it  again." 

"  I  can't  really, — it's  too  exhausting.  I  only  gave 
Father  one  to-night, — told  him  one,  I  mean." 

Mr.  Ingestre  took  the  wrist  of  the  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
to  detain  her.  "  Didn't  I  trespass,  then,  when  I  read  the 
little  poem  ?  Have  I  not  really  to  be  excused  ?  "  Charles 
had  proceeded  on  his  way,  by  now. 

"  No, — I  don't  mind  old  men  knowing, — I  let  Father. 
Father  remembers  his  lighthouses  very  well  .  .  .  and 
so,  I  expect,  do  you." 

"  Go  and  change  the  necklace,"  said  Mr.  Ingestre,  after 
a  pause.  He  stood  immovable  not  to  disturb  her,  but  his 
iron  brow  was  fixed. 

It  was  not  till  Mrs.  Shovell  reached  her  bedroom  that 
she  remembered,  with  something  of  a  shock,  her  hostess's 
reference  to  her  honeymoon,  the  first  night. 

Thus  Charles  discomfited  the  Ingestre  philosophy, 
proving  not  only  that  he  possessed  a  permanent  part, — the 
first  thing  they  discredited, — and  that  one  woman  could 
hold  it :  but  that  she  had  held  it  most  firmly,  by  his  own 
written  confession,  at  the  moment  when  she  considered 
his  interests  least,  when  she  had  risked  her  dearest  pos- 
session, with  his,  in  another's  cause. 

How  account  for  it?  Since  such  powers  in  the  land  as 
his  critics  must  be  answered. 

It  may  be,  firstly,  that  all  men  are  not  alike :  that  there 
are  a  few  characteristics  in  humanity  with  which  such  as 
John  and  Eveleen  fail  to  reckon :  and  that  imagination  is 
one  'of  them.  It  is  possible,  by  this  reckoning,  that  his 
poetry  saved  Charles  from  his  mother-in-law's  vulgar 
category.  It  is  possible  even  that  Shakespeare's  poetry 
saved  him.  The  idealist's  imagination  is  actually  a  power 
in  the  physical  world,  far  more  than  the  proverb-makers 
and  platitude-mongers  believe.  It  works  the  miracles, 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  447 

often,  from  which  they  prefer  to  turn  away  their  eyes. 
Imagination, — that  little  messenger  of  the  gods  whom 
Keats  and  Shakespeare  called  Fancy, — working  with  the 
twin  powers  of  sorrow  and  sympathy,  may  still  disconcert 
that  clamorous  crew, — disappoint  them  at  least,  as 
Eveleen  was  disappointed  in  Charles, — though  in  the 
nature  of  things  they  will  never  be  suppressed. 

Next — but  the  spirit  recoils.  We  have  not  Mrs.  In- 
gestre's  courage  to  advance  in  her  husband's  presence  the 
claims  of  woman's  intellect  in  the  double  life.  Agatha 
herself  was  a  miserable  example  of  its  efficacy,  since  she 
had  lived  thirty  odd  years  at  John's  side  without  disturb- 
ing his  established  convictions  in  the  least.  He  enjoyed 
her  conversation  daily,  as  he  enjoyed  Violet's, — that  was 
all.  The  thing  is  of  no  use  whatever,  we  understand, 
as  a  part  of  a  woman's  permanent  equipment:  and  Mrs. 
Shovell  was  doubtless  reconciled,  before  she  finally  quit- 
ted Agatha's  house,  to  conquering  by  other  means. 

But  there  remains  a  goddess, — if  she  will  excuse  the 
title,  and  the  company, — besides  these,  who  may  have 
lent  a  hand  to  help  Charles  to  his  discoveries,  during  the 
trials  of  that  first  year  of  married  life.  She  turned  in  his 
direction,  at  least,  once  or  twice,  and  he  caught  a  gleam 
from  her  gray  eyes :  eyes  like  Violet's,  cloud-colored  and 
clear.  This  was  the  strong  spirit  of  charity,  served 
silently  by  so  many, — by  such  as  Claude  Ashwin,  and  such 
as  Marmaduke  Jones.  It  is  hard  to  determine  how  much 
Charles  reached  by  this  means,  for  he  had  lost  himself 
rather  in  chatter  and  chaff  on  the  subject  of  that  other 
story  that  touched  his ;  and  he  could  hardly  even  now,  in 
retrospect,  take  Jones  quite  seriously.  His  other  little 
visitor,  Fancy,  had  played  him  false  in  this  case, — ob- 
scured the  issues  rather,  and  spoiled  the  moral,  for 
Charles.  But  a  core  remained,  a  core  of  humanity  and 
truth  in  the  character-study  he  had  inflated  so  gaily  for 
the  delectation  of  his  friends;  and  it  is  probable  he  re- 
tained that  core,  or  Violet  retained  it  for  him,  when  the 
rest  of  Jones'  narrative  was  cast  away. 


448  DUKE  JONES 


NOTE 

For  the  curious  in  literary  matters  only,  we  append  a 
note  as  to  the  fate  of  Charles'  sonnets. 

In  the  September  of  that  New  Year,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Shovell,  who  happened  to  be  spending  the  holidays  quietly 
in  town,  capitulated  simultaneously;  and  Mr.  Warden 
actually  published  the  book,  with  the  honeymoon  cycle 
complete,  and  a  brand-new  set  as  well.  The  correspond- 
ence had  better  be  given. 

"  DEAR  SHOVELL, 

"Am  I,  or  am  I  not,  to  have  that  extra  stuff?  It 
will  miss  her  birthday  a  second  time,  unless  you  prod 
Pegasus. 

"  Am  I  to  include  the  lighthouse  with  fifteen  lines? 

"  Is  she  really  all  right,  and  what  is  the  full  name  ?  Tell 
her  I  expect  a  literary  letter  soon.  Love  to  both — not  you. 

"  Faithfully  yours, 

"  LUCAS  WARDEN." 

"  DEAR  WARDEN, 

"  Rather.  Herewith  several,  and  you  can  choose. 
Personally  I  think  there's  nothing  to  choose  between  them, 
they  are  all  dashed  good.  I  am  writing  all  day, — nothing 
else  to  do  in  London  in  the  vac.  Besides,  you  ought  to  see 
them  together,  both  of  them  in  white,  a  pair  of  kids !  She 
is  as  well  as  possible,  and  simply  plays  the  giddy-goat  with 
the  child, — calls  it  educational  experiments.  Her  lan- 
guage grows  longer  as  soon  as  she  looks  at  it, — no  earthly 
girl  of  eight  weeks  could  understand.  She  is  at  it  out 
there  at  this  minute, — I  can  see  Brading's  shocked  face 
of  protest.  Margaret  Ashwin  is  the  Midget's  name,  not 
that  she's  ever  called  it,  but  if  for  an  inscription,  as  I 
suppose,  you  had  better  have  it  right.  Sorry  you  are 
done  out  of  god-paternity,  but  the  Church  down  at  Glass- 


EPILOGUE  AND  NOTE  449 

well  tells  V.  that  one  oldish  man  is  enough  for  a  girl. 
V.  herself  has  dozens,  but  that's  because  her  parents  are 
ungodly,  I  always  supposed." 

He  had  written  so  much  when  Violet  came  into  the 
study  from  the  garden  and  directed  him  to  come  out. 

"  Can't, — I'm  busy,"  said  Charles.  So  she  came  to  see 
what  his  absurd  business  was,  and  read  both  letters 
through. 

"Of  course  I  will,"  she  said  cordially  to  the  request  in 
the  first;  and  taking  the  first  seat  that  came,  which  was 
Charles'  knee,  and  the  pen  out  of  his  pocket,  she  added  a 
line  to  her  old  friend  on  what  was  left  of  his  sheet,  in  her 
pretty,  rather  shaken  hand. 

"  Come  and  see  Margery  Shovell  soon ;  you  would  like 
her  dearly.  She  is  not  like  other  children — sudden.  She 
is  discreet,  an  anachronism,  like  me.  She  does  everything 
I  ask  her,  very  carefully,  and  looks  at  me  first,  to  be  sure. 
I  asked  her  yesterday  not  to  be  so  good  that  she  will  die 
at  the  end  of  the  story, — and  she  cried  immediately,  for 
just  half  an  hour,  and  disturbed  the  doctor  writing  his 
big  book.  Wasn't  it  thoughtful  ?  But  we  had  to  explain 
to  grandgodpapa  when  he  came.  .  .  .  It  is  not  the 
trouble,  as  Annette  says,  to  give  people  beautiful  names. 
Charles  has  already  reduced  it  ad  absurdum  to  Midgery, 
and  Father  says  Miss  Miggs,  from  the  author  you  dis- 
dain. They  are  all  so  horrid  about  her  size, — as  if 
people  don't  grow !  " 

About  there  Violet  determined  to  be  literary,  and  con- 
sulted the  original  document  for  the  materials. 

"  It  surely  hasn't  fifteen  lines,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
laugh.  "  We  weren't  off  our  heads  to  that  exent?  " 

"  It  has,"  said  Charles. 

"  Nonsense, — but  I  remember !  Twelve,  and  a  nice 
couplet.  That  makes  fourteen,  doesn't  it  ? — Yes." 


45o  DUKE  JONES 

"  If  you  doubt  my  words,"  said  Charles,  "  it's  in  that 
drawer." 

She  did  not  seem  to  be  attending.  She  sat  on  his  knee, 
pen  in  hand,  pensively  pulling  at  her  little  curl. 

"  The  idea  of  a  sonnet  with  fifteen  lines  pleases  me," 
she  explained  her  abstraction  suddenly.  "  It's  blue-moon- 
ish.  You  are  rootedly  unconventional,  Charles.  That's 
why  I  like  you,  largely." 

"  All  right,"  said  Charles,  bearing  it.  "  When  you  have 
quite  done  with  my  pen " 

"  I  haven't,  quite." 

Mrs.  Shovell  concluded  her  literary  letter. 

"  Of  course,  you  may  put  in  the  lighthouse  poem,  or 
any  rubbish  you  like.  If  the  extra  line  is  too  shocking 
the  Censor  will  stop  it,  we  can't  be  bothered  now.  Mar- 
gery likes  lights  in  houses,  I  asked  her, — but  she  prefers 
steady  ones  to  look  at,  not  dodging  about.  She  does  not 
admire  impartiality.  She  argues  so  well,  when  we  are 
alone,  that  I  am  afraid  I  am  coming  round  to  her  opinion. 
Don't  tell  Charles " 

At  this  point  there  was  a  blank,  and  a  blot.  Which 
things  were  explained,  in  an  elegant  postscript  added  some 
twenty  minutes  later,  to  be  the  fault  of  Charles'  nasty  pen. 


LIBRARY 


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